


Codename Cupid

by justasparkwriting



Series: Codename Cupid [1]
Category: bts, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Angst, BTS valentine, Code Name, Codenames, Cupid - Freeform, Dating, Detective, Dysfunctional Family, Dysfunctional Relationships, Espionage, F/M, Family Dinner, Family Drama, Family Dynamics, Family Fights, Family Issues, Gen, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Lies, Love, M/M, Private Investigators, Rape Aftermath, Rape Culture, Rape Recovery, Sibling Rivalry, Spy Jeon Jungkook, Spy Jung Hoseok | J-Hope, Spy Kim Namjoon | RM, Spy Kim Seokjin | Jin, Spy Kim Taehyung | V, Spy Min Yoongi | Suga, Spy Park Jimin (BTS), Swearing, bts - Freeform, bts angst, bts fanfic, bts smut, codename cupid, government agents, relationships, secret agent AU, secret agents, spy AU, valentines day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-12 02:01:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 26
Words: 60,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29127615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justasparkwriting/pseuds/justasparkwriting
Summary: The heiress and rising CEO of Lee Enterprises, a renowned conglomerate with bewildering business practices and world class philanthropy, has hired a PI to track down the men who broke her heart.What happens when the men don’t want to be found, and harbor their own motives?Note - the RAPE warning is for Chapter 14: Codename Love Reimagined and it is NOT DETAILED.
Relationships: Jeon Jungkook/Original Female Character(s), Jeon Jungkook/Reader, Jeon Jungkook/You, Jung Hoseok | J-Hope/Original Character(s), Kim Seokjin | Jin & Original Female Character(s), Kim Seokjin | Jin/Original Female Character(s), Min Yoongi | Suga/Original Female Character(s), Park Jimin (BTS)/Original Character(s), Park Jimin (BTS)/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Codename Cupid [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2137305
Comments: 43
Kudos: 17





	1. Who's Who - Character Descriptions

**Author's Note:**

> Introduction to the leading lady and the broken hearted heiress who wants nothing more than to find the men who broke her heart. But is that all she’s searching for?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Character list and minor descriptions

## OT7

**Kim Namjoon**

_**Codename** : RM _

_**Role** : Leader of OT7, Genius and former child prodigy _

**Kim Seokjin**

_**Codename** : Worldwide Handsome, Mr. Handsome, WWH  
_

**Role** _: Expert in finance, economics and financial practices, wunderkind of the stock market_

**Min Yoongi**

_**Codename** : Suga, Agust D, Park Yoongi   
_

_**Role** : Head of cyber intelligence, coding and security _

**Jung Hoseok**

_**Codename** : J-Hope   
_

_**Role** : Head of documentation and forgery, bank and mail fraud _

**Park Jimin**

_**Codename** : Mochi, Cho Jimin_

_**Role** : Surveillance, Cyber Intelligence & Field Work _

**Kim Taehyung**

_**Codename** : V , Taehyung_

_**Role** : Surveillance, Field Work_

**Jeon Jungkook**

_**Codename** : Golden Maknae_

_**Role** : Surveillance, Field Work_

## Lee Family 

**Mr. Lee**

_**Codename** : Mr. Valentine_

_**Role** : CEO of Lee Enterprises_

**Mrs. Lee**

_**Codename** : Mrs. Valentine_

**Dae-Seong**

_**Codename** : Archer_

_**Role** : Eldest Lee, Chairman of the Board of Lee Enterprises_

**Kwan-Min**

_**Codename** : Bow   
_

_**Role** : Second Eldest Lee, Head of Philanthropy _

**Jun-Seo**

_**Codename** : Arrow  
_

_**Role** : Second son, Head of Philanthropy_

**Euna**

_**Codename** : Cupid_

_**Role** : Youngest and Second Daughter, CEO apparent _


	2. Who's Who - Character Descriptions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Introduction to our leading lady (Y/N) and the broken hearted heiress who wants nothing more than to find the men who broke her heart. But is that all she’s searching for?

**The Broken-Hearted Heiress**

**_Present Day_ **

The light breaks through the stained-glass windows arched above the double paned – somehow always rattling – glass below. The wood, warping slowly, gives way to the rustling of mid-winter, not raging hard enough to knock leaves off the trees, but enough that a cool breeze sweeps through my office. It seemed a universal problem, the lower the rent, the more problems to endure. In my five years in this particular office space, its quirks have done nothing but rage against my nerves. The door that you have to slam shut in order to lock, the bathroom that’s barely big enough to turn around in, and the slight smell of dumplings from the restaurant on the corner. What it lacks in esthetic beauty, it holds in convenience. Close to the business district, near the freeway, an overwhelming amount of natural light and original woodwork, stunning views of what was a park, now a set of townhouses recently built. The rent, barely changing from year to year, has kept me here this long. That, and the landlord was one of my first cases when I get my PI license, and has sent any a client to me, talking about discounted rates while he jacked the prices. A 20% discount, which luckily brought the price down to my original rate, made them feel like I was a steal. I couldn’t thank Mr. Yang enough for the support, or the fact that he got my windows cleaned every year, free of charge.

I’m the only PI on this side of the city, and the only one in a twenty-mile radius with quick, efficient results. I pride myself on my results, and my 5-star Yelp rating is proof of that. It’s not all sunshine and rainbows, I do carry a taser and maize, out of precaution. Being a woman snooping on other people often leads me down back alleys, towards dangerous men and secrets bigger than the universe. But I love the danger, the inability to pin me down, the uncertainty that I am who I say I am, and not the secretary waiting patiently for my boss to come in. In the years I’ve been working, the suspects always remain confused on who exactly I am. Their worst nightmare? Their godsend? Their hope? Their noose?

I’m both their hurricane and the eye of the storm. They just can’t decipher when I’m which.

Leaning back in the chair, I sigh, eyes drifting from the too bright computer screen to the refrigerator. The left-over cheesecake calls from its Styrofoam container, _eat me, eat me, devour me_ , it beckons. I want to, more than I care to admit, and there’s no way I can deny the salivation that has been occurring as I try to organize rates for my last client. All I can think about is the creamy texture mixing with the stark contrasting raspberry swirl, the bite of the rum that courses through its silky layers, and the crunch of the graham cracker crust… I waited for weeks to get a slice of it, and finally, _finally_ , the treat is mine. Now it sits, belonging to the mini fridge. I know, it will still be waiting for me after I finish. Waiting to be goggled up with a glass of pinot grigio and maybe, if I have the energy, eaten after a large bowl of pasta that I make instead of you know… DoorDash. I can’t order out again, especially when I am perfectly capable of cooking for myself. Capable and willing are two different things, and _truly_ , I am unwilling.

I force myself to stop ogling my fridge and lower my eyes to my computer screen. This last client, Lee Euna, heiress and CEO apparent of _Lee Enterprises_ , had left much to be desired. She had minimal, factual intel, which stemmed from a list of names of the men who have wronged her and her family. It wasn’t a short list, by any means. Five names sitting prettily on a piece of paper, her handwriting detailed and immaculate.

“How stunning are those names?” she had asked. “Kim Seokjin, Min Yoongi, Jung Hoseok, Park Jimin and Kim Taehyung. Pretty names, prettier men.”

Euna brought photos and as much information as she had, though her eyes were withholding, and she had few answers to my standard questions. What she lacked in factual information, she made up for in her manifesto. It was no shorter than 100 handwritten pages and filled with every wrongdoing the five have committed against the Lee’s. From what I can sus out from our meeting, she was slightly deranged, a multi-billionaire, and seeking some sort of vengeance. The crimes committed ranged from cheating, to what looked to be embezzling and insider trading, though she provided no financial records and no hard proof the men were profiting from _Lee Enterprises_. How she, and her siblings, ended up in relationships with these men is included in a separate, typed and printed, volume which gives around 50 pages of grotesque details about each man.

In reading through the documents, I begin to piece together the narrative she’s trying to write: five men, unrelated, had all fallen into bed with her, her siblings, or her company, only to break her heart on or around Valentine’s Day, one almost every year for the better part of a decade. The men, having never crossed paths personally or professionally, to her knowledge, had no university in common, no careers that were similar, no mutual friends. Their only link, the Lee’s. Her manifesto is full of inaccuracies and plot holes bigger than anything Neil Breen has ever written. Through her writing, it’s apparent that she wants blood, but for what I cannot tell. Their unsubstantiated crimes are nothing more than fabricated lies, and for the money she’s willing to pay me, I can tell she wants me to come to a specific conclusion. I’m not sure I’m going to provide her with what she wants, or rather what she assumes I’ll find. Which means one of two things, either Euna is absolutely shattered, or, _or_ , there’s a larger conspiracy at play that I am just a pawn in. Either way, it won’t hurt to go a step further to unearth more about these men and understand why Lee Euna wants them found.

The first, _Kim Seokjin._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (first few chapters are exposition)


	3. Love at First Algorithm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Heiress and her first love.

**Love at First Algorithm**

_**Fall, Junior Year** _

Kim Seokjin sat silently in his lecture hall, eyes trained on his professor, fingers moving deftly against his keyboard. The upper-level econ class was his favorite session of the fall semester, and he would give anything to get Dr. Cho to hire him as his TA for spring semester, next fall, as well as the summer session. Hopefully, by working under the famed professor, Jin would acquire a Letter of Recommendation from the man. He wanted nothing more than to be an economist, studying the benefits of micro financing on the global economy, or perhaps unpacking the micro decisions that go into buying and selling stocks on the market, analyzing and creating statistical models to calculate the risks. In order to do those things, Jin had a few asses to kiss.

Lee Euna sat behind Seokjin, her eyes trained on the back of his head, picturing the way her hands could run through his silky black locks. He kept his hair longer, hanging over his ears, bangs filtering his vision in a pre-Instagram filter. She had taken notice of him in her mid-level business course last spring, and again in the summer when they were on campus, attending seminars between their summer internships. She’d almost spoken to him at a mixer, but his smile… His face. Chocolate orbs and pouty lips, and his laugh of dulcet tones echoing around the room, captivating… Her crush was quick, and she fell deep. Which is how she ended up sitting behind him this semester and offering to be his partner on the very nebulous project that would determine their final grade.

“We can meet in the library, tomorrow and start to brainstorm ideas?” Seokjin offered, eyes scanning the hard copy of the project.

“That’s great, I have about two hours between courses in the morning,” Euna replied.

“I work in the mornings, what about 2PM?” Seokjin’s eyes darted across the page, rereading the information he’d already memorized.

“I can make that work,” Euna said.

“Don’t cancel anything on my account,” Seokjin stated, his eyes glancing over her quickly.

“I won’t, I have time before my next uh, appointment,” Euna’s practiced in seeming unavailable, a tactic utilized in the attraction of men for centuries. She knew how to make him want to see her, if only he would take the bait.

Jin cocked his eyebrow at appointment but didn’t ask, it wasn’t his business.

“Great, meet you in the atrium at 2?” Jin clarified.

“I’ll see you then,” Euna smiled, coy with a hint of eagerness.

“Oh, and Euna?” Jin slipped his backpack over his shoulder.

“Yes Seokjin?” Euna asked, eyes batting.

“Bring your textbook, we’ll need to reference chapters 5 and 6. I only have the eBook.”

“Sure thing,” Euna smiled and for the first time, Jin stopped and took her in. Her black hair was shoulder length, a natural curl cascading from her roots down. She was rather small compared to his over 6-foot build, and the extra bling on her manicure did not go unnoticed as he took a cursory glance over her. Her wardrobe was classic, blending the silhouette of Audrey Hepburn with the hottest streetwear styles. Clearly, she read Vogue, most likely from multiple countries. He hoped her demeanor would lend itself to productive sessions and not result in him receiving anything less than an _A_ on this project. Any blemish to his report and he’d surely lose Dr. Cho’s recommendation. Euna hoped that his staring was a sign, a crush building, maybe he’d hoped they’d be partners, maybe he already liked her as much as she liked him.

Their first meeting was, in a word, uneventful. Euna planned every second of their time together, from the questions she asked him to the way she gripped her pen, every moment was calculated.

“Have you read all of chapters 5 and 6?” Seokjin asked, his eyes glued to his laptop screen as he copied down a few notes from a past lecture.

“Yes,” Euna said. “I took some notes, do you want to see them?”

“No, that’s okay,” Jin glanced at her, “Photographic memory.”

“Oh,” Euna had heard rumors of his brilliance, but nothing was confirmed.

“We have to decide on the type of business we’re creating, and analyze other companies with a similar structure before we can begin to calculate the earnings,”

“Dr. Cho said the public offering isn’t until mid-semester, when do we need to have our business model completed?” Euna asked.

“End of the month,” Jin replied. “Did you read the project outline?”

“Yes, what were you thinking for our business?”

“We can either follow the trend, tech companies, or pick something less –

“Ubiquitous,” Euna finished.

“Right,” Seokjin eyed her again, first she’d asked a stupid question about the project guidelines, then she threw out a mid-level SAT vocabulary word. “I think sticking with tech, more specifically a type of app, is our best bet to recreate the structure of the actual financial structure in our economy.”

“I agree, but I don’t think we should do anything on the same lines as Amazon, or food delivery or computers,” Euna countered.

“Knock out the entire industry?” Seokjin was surprised.

“We should look into phones, a cell service company, focusing on 5G broadband and a shift towards eco-friendly fiber optics and greener business practices,” Euna rattles off the idea, noting how Jin responded to her words.

“How’d you come up with that?” He tilted his head to the side, staring at her for the first time, curiosity peaked.

“I thought about it. Everyone has a cell phone, there are serious ethical challenges with the materials that go into making cellular phones, and with the constant improvement to broadband, everyone has to adapt at a pace that seems unsustainable, I guarantee there are huge environmental violations happening,” Euna continued to speak, her words verbatim from a presentation she’d watched at her father’s company no more than a few weeks ago.

“We can look at the leading brands, both in terms of phone development and cellular networks to create the stock options and model, we should begin monitoring the DOW and NASDAQ immediately,” Seokjin said, eyes pealing slowly from Euna to his computer screen. She smirked as she watched him hastily pull open a new webpage and quickly begin setting up alerts and trackers for a variety of companies.

“We should both be monitoring them, I’ll take the Dow if you take NASDAQ,” Jin said, scribbling numbers down in his digital notebook, “We should both write things down, keep a digital or paper copy as well.”

“Are you always this intense?” Euna asked, her first personal question of the session.

“Yes,” Jin didn’t bother looking at her. Girls like Euna always responded to his drive the same way, critical, judgmental, wondering if he ever loosened up. Unlike other girls, Euna had seen the fun side of Jin, and in their years at university, wherein he ignored her existence, she had been observing him.

“What else do we need to go over for today?”

“We should set up another time to meet. I’ll send you the documents and you can start working on our business plan. I’m thinking we need to meet twice a week at least until the market opens, or rather until Dr. Cho allows us to give public offerings,” Jin told her.

“Same time on Thursday?” Euna stood, her computer already tucked safely into her couture bag.

“Great, see you then,” Jin nodded. Without Euna present, he’d be able to analyze the companies at a fast pace than if she stayed. Though she was exposing her knowledge, Seokjin couldn’t tell if she’d over prepared in hopes that he’d take over the entire project, was trying to impress him. It was challenging to impress Jin, and unlike Euna, he had something to prove.

Seokjin, the youngest of two sons, had lived a comfortable lifestyle. His father, an upper level in a large company, had provided and even spoiled his sons. Nothing was out of reach, though the question of whether or not they deserved it always hung in the air. Jin was a fine student. He enjoyed his friends, but what he loved spending his time doing, solving, understanding, was the way in which the world worked. Jin was fascinated by the evolution of currency, the national bank, the debt crisis and the minting of money. Everything related to coinage was a source of fascination for Seokjin. He busied himself reading the histories of modern finance, the evolution of economics, a comprehensive guide to what banking and federal reserves are. Jin wanted nothing more than to become a world class economist, maybe winning a Nobel Peace Prize for it, and bettering the world because he felt somewhere deep inside him that he could. When he wasn’t with his friends, or reading, he was exploring calculus and statistics in order to give him an edge.

Entering college, he was one freshman in a sea of seniors and grad students taking classes he could’ve passed in high school. All to get the attention of Dr. Cho, all to make something of his life. As he began his project, disappointment waning as the final notes of Lee Euna’s perfume wafted away, he wondered if she too had something to prove.


	4. Codename: The First Heartbreak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kim Seokjin meets the deciders of his fate, and the demise of his relationship.

_**Codename: The First Heartbreak** _

_Winter, Junior Year_

Kim Seokjin and Lee Euna began their courtship on the pretense of getting to know each other more for the sake of their economics project. What Seokjin hadn’t expected, was to fall into bed with Euna, to hold her hand on campus, to discuss New Year’s celebrations and date nights at the ballet or symphony. Euna knew how to wine and dine, sweeping Seokjin up in what he could only describe as a whirlwind romance. She wanted to ensnare him, to make her life so irresistible, he couldn’t breathe without her. The plan would’ve worked too, if Kim Namjoon hadn’t stepped in.

It was late one Thursday in the middle of January, snow had fallen across campus coating it in a freezing blanket, when Seokjin arrived at his car. Resting gently on the dashboard was a note with a simple location, somewhere up town, no signature. Terrified by the thought of what would happen to him if he didn’t go, horrified by the thoughts of what might happen if he did go, Seokjin sat in his car, hands frozen to the steering wheel, eyes wide in shock. He had no good options.

Turning his car on, blasting the heat and whatever podcast he had started in the library, Seokjin drove cautiously to the location. He could turn on find my friends, sending his location to his brother. He could call his brother, and ask to mute himself, so that he could hear whatever happened. He could just wait in his car, unmoving until someone came and got him. That seemed like the best option. Wait an hour or so before leaving and hoping to never find a note perfectly placed, with his name on it, in his locked car ever again.

The best laid plans are always turned to shit, and as the minutes ticked by, an ever-present shadow kept growing. At first Jin thought it was an optical illusion, a trick of the light, but as it moved closer and closer, he became aware that it was in fact a man. A man rivaling his height, though shoulders less broad, and lips far from pouty, dressed in all black, his eyes cast down at Seokjin.

“Kim Seokjin, glad you made it,” He said, reaching for the handle of the door, he opened it.

“Who are you?” Jin asked.

The man shook his head and nodded towards the building behind them, practically windowless, it stood stories high. How a warehouse could look so majestic confused him, never had he seen a building like this before. Exiting his vehicle, he paused.

“Do you want the note?”

“No, we won’t be here tomorrow,” The man said as he walked towards the building. Matching his strides, Jin followed. He watched the man enter a code and have his retinas scanned before they stepped into the building. The darkness was only alleviated by small lights along the floorboards, guiding them to another locked door. Jin didn’t dare speak, only watched in astonishment.

This couldn’t be happening.

“Have a seat,” The man said before following his own directions.

“Who are you?” Seokjin asked, eyes trying to make sense of the dimly lit room.

“Welcome, Kim Seokjin, to OT7,” The lights were raised and Jin gasped. Not only was he seated at a large conference table, but it was now clear that there were two other men, dressed in black, looking like the Korean Mafia.

“Um, hello,” Seokjin nodded, staring at them.

“I am Kim Namjoon,” The first man said, his bleach blonde hair neatly quaffed back, exposing his forehead and spectacles. “I am glad you received my note. This is the team,”

“Min Yoongi, head of cyber intelligence, coding and security,” Yoongi said, eyes blinking quickly. 

“Jung Hoseok, forgery and documentation,” Hoseok informed.

“We have brought you here for a specific reason,” Namjoon said.

“Okay,” Jin was still confused.

“You are friendly with Lee Euna,” Namjoon began.

“Yes,” Jin answered.

“You’re a scholar of economics and finance,” Namjoon continued.

“Yes,” Seokjin nodded, nothing was connecting.

“We want you to join our team,” Hoseok said. “Want is the wrong word, you are joining our team.”

“What team is that?” Jin was still confused.

“OT7, we are a highly trained, highly specialized group of agents tasked with protecting the world from the scum of the earth,” Yoongi said, sitting back in his chair.

“We look out for the good of the world,” Namjoon simplified. “It sounds nebulous, but I guarantee it is far more simplistic than you think.”

“Why me?” Seokjin whispered.

“You have been on our radar for years, and this year you stepped up to demonstrate your skills,” Namjoon told him.

“We need a member on the team who can analyze the trade, monitor our marks and watch for any concerning trades,” Yoongi clarified.

“More importantly, we need you to help us infiltrate the Lee family,” Hoseok spoke up, eyes moving from Yoongi’s to Namjoon’s, “That’s why he’s here, we don’t need to drag this out, the guy looks scared shitless.”

“Infiltrate the Lee family?” Seokjin repeated. “That’s, how?”

“You two are dating,” Yoongi said.

“Sure,” Jin nodded.

“To be direct, we need everything you have on Lee Euna and her family,” Hoseok said.

“I don’t have much, I mean, I don’t know anything about their business,” Seokjin’s eyes widened, still confused how he had managed to find himself here.

“Here’s how this is going to work,” Namjoon said. “You are going to work with us, you are going to be onboarded and brought into this organization. Then, you are going to tell us every last detail you have on Lee Euna. Finally, the second most essential part of this plan, you are going to break her heart so that Yoongi can put her back together, gain access to her computer and plant various tracking software. With the information Yoongi gathers, you will spend your days analyzing their business models, following their stock and going over every financial record we have access to. Do you have any questions?”

“She loves me,” Seokjin’s eyes were wide, this was more preposterous than anything he’d seen in the business world.

“All the better reason to end it now,” Yoongi said.

“It’s, it’s almost Valentine’s Day, she loves Valentin’s Day,” Seokjin was pleading.

“Even better,” Yoongi responded.

“Why me?” Jin asked again.

“Can you find me someone more intelligent, more equipped?” Namjoon questioned.

“I’ve never broken someone’s heart,” Seokjin said, more to himself than to the other men.

“There’s a first time for everything,” Hoseok replied, tone gentle. 

“Who are you again?” Seokjin repeated.

“Who are we,” Namjoon corrected, “OT7, your new family.”

“Welcome, you’re gonna love it,” Hoseok said laughing.

“Hoseok will pick you up tomorrow after your final class and bring you to our headquarters where we will begin your onboarding process. You will finish school early-

“How?” Jin interrupted.

“Summer school. You will quit your part time job and spend every waking moment not in class at headquarters. You have much to learn,” Namjoon finished.

“I’ll have your new phone ready for you tomorrow, bring your computer so I can fix whatever shit software you’ve got on it and amp up security,” Yoongi informed him.

“Am I, am I in danger?” Seokjin asked.

“No, you’re not. Yoongi has a new trainee tailing you, so if anything goes wrong, he’ll be there,” Namjoon answered.

“Who?” Jin asked.

“That’s for us to know.” Yoongi smirked.

“In any official documents, you will hence forth be referred to as-

“Worldwide Handsome,” Yoongi suggested, a glint of terror in his eyes.

“Codename WWH,” Namjoon nodded, “We use code names for every mission, need to know basis.”

“Okay,” Seokjin said, eyes trying to focus on his new family. “What’s this mission called?”

“The First Heartbreak,” Hoseok said, “I’m in charge of naming missions.”

“Your task, before Hoseok picks you up, is to break up with Codename Cupid.” Namjoon instructed, voice harsh.

“By tomorrow?”

“Yes,” Namjoon answered.

~~~~~

Seokjin drove until his gas tank was on empty, fear and confusion coursing through him. They, OT7, hadn’t given him much information, only his task: break up with Euna. Seokjin had never broken up with someone before, never watched the realization that the two of them weren’t building something come crashing down, gloss forming over their eyes as they tried to remain calm. He’d never hurt someone. He’d also never had a code name or been in some secret government organization. Was it a government organization? They hadn’t said. That was even more worrisome, expecting Hoseok to pick him up to take him to his first of what he assumed was many onboarding sessions. These men, the four of them, must be child prodigies, must be highly intelligent or bred to be in these positions. He couldn’t figure out how he fit into their plan, only that he had to.

Barely sleeping, he trudged through his classes, absentmindedly taking notes, counting down the hours until he had to break up with Euna, and then promptly hop into a car with a man he barely knew, Hoseok. Euna texted frequently, concerned over his lack of communication, and was excited to see him over coffee.

“Jinnie,” Euna called as she stepped into the coffee shop. Seokjin, having turned on voice recording, set his phone face down on the table.

“Euna,” He said, refusing to call her by any pet name. It was a trait about him she found frustrating, his inability to verbalize his affection. She loved him, she could say it, she could identify the feeling within her body, but Jin? Never said, never tried to say it, just grateful that she wanted to spend time with him.

“How are you? Where have you been?” Euna asked.

“Just really busy,” Seokjin shrugged, closing himself off to her.

“Oh?” Euna could see through his lie.

“Yeah, and I’ve been thinking,”

“I made reservations for Valentine’s day, it’ll be our 5-month anniversary too,” Euna sipped her latte, eyes bright but questioning.

“About that, Euna, I’ve been thinking, and I don’t think we should see each other anymore,” Seokjin said. On his long drive around town, he practiced his speech. The words, written by Namjoon, had been kind and direct.

“What?” Euna’s voice dropped. She hadn’t been expecting this.

“I need to focus on my work, and with Dr. Cho asking me to TA this semester and next spring, and with the option to TA two sections next year, I need to focus. All my time needs to be directed at my work. I am graduating early, and I just don’t have the time to be in a relationship. I’m sorry, Euna, I really am.”

Euna sat silently, eyes boring holes in the tabletop, her coffee forgotten. Hadn’t they been falling in love? Weren’t they planning a romantic Valentine’s Day weekend? Roses and chocolates and champagne at one of the hotels her parents owned, overlooking the city? Wasn’t he going to tell her that he loves her?

“I can’t believe this,” She whispered, a tear dropping from her eye. “I thought we were moving forward, falling in love.”

“I don’t know if I was,” Jin said.

It was in that moment that Euna felt herself shattering. She wiped the stray tear away before setting her eyes on her now ex-boyfriend.

“I trust you’ll be cordial in social situations,” Euna said.

“Of course,” Jin nodded, his gut reaction to reach for her hand gone as he took in her downcast features.

“Goodbye Seokjin,” Euna stood, staring into her full coffee cup.

“Goodbye Euna,” Seokjin responded.

On the drive to headquarters, Seokjin blindfolded, he listened to the droll of the radio. Hoseok didn’t say much as they meandered through the streets, onto the freeway and off. It was hard to tell what the actual directions was and what Hoseok was doing to throw him off. If only he knew how poor Seokjin’s sense of direction was.

“WWH, you can take your blindfold off,” Hoseok said, putting the car in park.

“Is this how it’s going to be?” Seokjin asked.

“For the first month or so, then you’ll prove yourself and get to drive,” Hoseok responded. 

“How did you get into this, group? Organization?” He was unsure what to call it, unsure what _it_ even was.

“Ah, that’s a story for another time,” Hoseok guided him towards the elevator. Having his retina scanned, the doors opened, and they stepped in.

“Namjoon’s in charge?” Seokjin asked.

“Yes,” Hoseok nodded.

“He’s younger than me,” Jin stated.

“Yes,” Hoseok replied.

“Is he-

“A genius?” Hoseok smiled.

“Yeah,” Jin nodded.

“Yes,” Hoseok nodded again.

“Are all of you-

“Gifted?”

“Yeah,”

“Yes,” Hoseok looked at him, knowing full well his response answered the unaskable question.

“How did you-

“All in good time, Mr. Handsome,” Hoseok winked and stepped off the elevator, glancing at the empty reception desk before turning down a hallway.

“We’re briefing you before Yoongi takes over.”

“Yoongi?”

“Did you bring your phone and computer?” Yoongi asked, making his way towards the men.

“Yes, I did,” Seokjin handed over the devices.

“I didn’t ask if you have any other devices, iPad, tablet, anything,” Yoongi was busy looking over the material, not paying Seokjin any attention as he pulled off bar codes and shut down the machines.

“No, no tablet,” Jin answered.

“You do all that economics work, on this singular computer?” Yoongi questioned, disbelief in his voice.

“I have a monitor-

“Fuck, bring it tomorrow,”

“Ah, Worldwide Handsome, have a seat,” Namjoon said entering Yoongi’s office. “I trust it you slept horribly?”

“Absolutely horribly, worst night’s sleep,” Seokjin shook his head.

Eyeing the dark circles adorning Seokjin’s face, Namjoon spoke softly, “You didn’t go straight home yesterday.”

“Uh, no, I didn’t.”

“Did you follow through on your orders?” Namjoon questioned.

“Yes,”

“Yoongi, send the voice memo and print the transcription,” Namjoon directed.

“I’ll listen and transcribe it, give me 5 minutes,” There was no further discussion, Hoseok stood and moved to his office across the hall. 

“Mm, let’s talk about Lee Euna,” Namjoon led Seokjin into a conference room on the opposite glass wall of Yoongi’s office. The exposed brick was laced with a variety of greenery, plants of all species crawling up the walls and windowsills. 

“Alright,” Seokjin sat down, his heart moving his center of gravity to easily meet the cushion of the office chair.

“How long have you known her?” Namjoon asked.

“I’ve known of her since freshman year, but only became acquainted with her this fall when we became partners in Dr. Cho’s class.”

“Who asked who to be partners?” Namjoon pressed.

“She asked me,” Seokjin replied.

“Any idea why?”

“No,” Jin shrugged, he’d been wondering the same thing since she asked.

“When did you begin dating?”

“November,” Jin answered.

“Two and a half months after the project began?” Namjoon clarified.

“Yes,”

“How is she, as a business partner?”

“She knows a lot more than she lets on, about everything,” He shrugged.

“What did you know of her family before you started seeing each other?”

“They are one of the most elusive and public family’s in the world,” Namjoon started, “They have billions, donate to charity, and have hands in every aspect of the financial system, both in the states and globally.”

“What do you know now?” Hoseok asked, setting the transcription in front of Namjoon.

“Euna doesn’t talk about her family much…”

“What do you know?” Namjoon asked again.

“Dae-Seong is the devil incarnate, angry and vindictive, abusive to all three siblings. Jun-Seo is flirtatious and rambunctious, takes his job very seriously. Kwan-Min is much like Jun-Seo, and the two are inseparable.”

“How does Euna relate to them?” Hoseok wondered.

He took a seat next to Namjoon and stared at the greenery. Seokjin hadn’t spent enough time with him to understand the full duality of Hoseok, but he had the feeling there was more to him than met his eye.

“She doesn’t, Dae-Seong has made it clear that she is the golden maknae of the family, and everyone should bow at her feet. He hates her and has made it his mission to turn the other two against her as well. When they announced she would take over the company –

“They didn’t announce that,” Namjoon interrupts, eyes darting to Hoseok.

“I thought they-

“YOONGI!” Namjoon yelled, voice rattling the glass separating them from the coder.

“Aye, what?” Yoongi asked, stepping into the room.

“Lee Euna is set to become the next CEO of Lee Enterprises,”

“Says who?” Yoongi shot back.

“Mr. Handsome,” Hoseok said.

“Is that really how I’m going to be addressed?” Seokjin rolled his eyes.

“Yes,” Hoseok smiled.

“It’s not in any papers or reports, no internal memos, nothing. No one has that information. Are you sure, Lee Euna is set to become CEO?” Yoongi stared at Seokjin, wondering if this string bean was holding the key to the gates of paradise.

“She said it one night, we were talking about the future and jobs,” Jin informed them.

“Did she offer you a job at Enterprises?” Namjoon demanded.

Seokjin glanced from man to man, anger and frustration in their eyes. “Yeah, but I said that would be weird… We haven’t been together that long.”

A pause filled the room, air the only thing exchanging between the men. Jin couldn’t tell if he had just fucked up, or royally fucked up.

“Did she say when?” Yoongi asked.

“No, probably a few years after graduation, her dad wants her to spend more time actual in the company before she takes over,” Jin answered.

“Mm,” Namjoon nodded, his rage ebbing as he broke down the information. “What does that do for our plan?”

“What’s the plan?” Seokjin asked.

“Oh, Worldwide Handsome, you have so much to learn.”


	5. Daddy's Favorite & the First Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kim Seokjin and Lee Euna are flirting the line between classmates and crushing, will he return her feelings?

_**Daddy's Favorite & the First Date** _

_Fall, Junior Year_

Lee Euna is the youngest heiress to _Lee Enterprises_ , one of the largest conglomerates in the history of economics. Heralded as one of the leading forces in banking and stock trades, it has banks all over the world catering to the highest cliental, princes and princesses, kings and queens all lined up to put their worth, jewels and all, in the vaults of _Lee_. Their smaller subsidiaries managed the trading of stocks, networking in millions of dollars for various clients who inhabited a lesser tier of society but strived to reach the upper echelon. Generational wealth, for the Lee’s and their clients, made their work heavily guarded and secretive. Getting hired by them was near impossible, and once you were in, death was the only way out.

It was a misconception that Euna had little to live up to, as her parents favorite and owner of the highest IQ out of her four siblings, she was set to become CEO, while her siblings were relegated to chairman of the board, and heads of philanthropy. The titles suited her siblings fine. Dae-Seong loved bossing around the members of the board, encouraging frivolity and billable hours while scheduling grueling development that often-bored members to tears. He ruled with an iron fist, what he said went, that is unless the CEO had a differing opinion, and then, both out of spite and seniority, Dae-Seong fell in line with what their father wanted. Dae-Seong didn’t care for the familial atmosphere their father had run _Lee Enterprises_ with, and favored a cold regimented environment that was almost impossible to work in. Dae-Seong always said that the best blooms came from the hardest earth. Whether or not that was proven, he didn’t care, at _Lee_ _Enterprises_ , he would make it so.

Jun-Seo and Kwan-Min loved running the philanthropy branch of the _Enterprise_. They, like their father and mother, adored a good party and held several charity balls each year. Together, they raised hundreds of millions for a variety of causes that Euna barely paid attention to. The food was always exquisite, the drinks plentiful, the glimmer of the party always outshining the family feud that erupted hours before guests showed up, and the scandals that would be whispered about the morning after. Though the scandals never tarnished the reputations of Jun-Seo and Kwan-Min, they certainly provided a necessary indulgence to all the attendees.

Kwan-Min, the second oldest, was thrilled with her role in _Lee Enterprises_. She and Jun-Seo were heralded as visionaries, doling out millions of dollars every year to causes that ranged from climate justice to underfunded schools, and cancer research. They were responsible for funding some of the most progressive movements, as well as backing lobbyists for liberal, bordering on socialist, legislation. They dedicated an afternoon a week, usually Thursdays, to spend their time scouring the internet for new charities to donate money to. This was the heart of their jobs, finding niche organizations that were struggling, food pantries in rural towns or women’s shelters in battered parts of the city, that sustained their other work and lessened the blow of the billions in their bank accounts.

It was hard to be known as a large corporation benefiting from tax breaks while subsequently funding social movements. The family never discussed the dichotomy of their predicament, instead choosing to let their actions speak for themselves.

Anyone could donate thousands to St. Jude.

Only the Lee’s could donate a hundred million.

While Kwan-Min found satisfaction in donating to negligible organizations, Jun-Seo found bliss in hounding friends and acquaintances for money. A natural salesman, he strived on the pressure he created for himself. Nothing was ever good enough, or enough period. He was always wanting more. More money to give away, more money to spend on vacations and lavish trips, more alcohol, more clothes, everything in excess. His work, and Kwan-Min’s, was regularly overlooked by both their parents, Dae-Seong and Euna. The good they did was always outshined by the amount that Euna and Dae-Seong pulled into the business, the new dignitaries transferring their funds, the latest piece of the Queen’s jewelry put into one of their vaults. They’d always played the role of second fiddle, and as years went by, no matter their accomplishments, they were never held in the same esteem as Euna and god forbid, Dae-Seong.

If Jun-Seo and Kwan-Min were relegated to the B-Team, Euna was first off the bench for the A-Team. Every Lee child attended college, but none went to the most elite universities with the most widely renowned business program, with guarantees to intern anywhere they wanted, except Euna. Her older siblings watched as she rose through the ranks, mastering the cello, classic ballet and calculus by the time she was thirteen. They watched, with pride and in horror, as she crunched numbers in her spare time, pirouetted across the most elegant stages and slung her bow delicately against the strings of her hand made instrument. It was clear from an early age that Euna was the best of the four of them.

In fits of anger, Dae-Seong would chide that their parents had hit it out of the park with him and kept trying until they got another diamond. If fate had been on their side, Euna would’ve been second, and if the gods really favored them, she would’ve been a boy. He routinely failed to acknowledge his other siblings, whom he owed a great deal of gratitude. It was their work that kept the paparazzi and critics at bay, their work that allowed him to go on benders and run his corporate torture seminars. Their good PR paid for his mistakes, with change left over.

Dae-Seong specialized in breeding discontent, of taunting his siblings, bullying them, forcing them against each other. Euna had recognized this side of him from the time she could identify his actions weren’t full of love, but malintent. The announcement that she would train to be the next CEO had sent Dae into a blind rage, which he quickly turned into a bender in the most elusive clubs. They didn’t hear from him for a week, and when he returned, their father had lashed out at him before sending Dae to a ‘conference’ for a month. The siblings knew what had happened. The belt had come off the wall, and Dae, though grown, had succumbed to his father. Dae was sent to a ‘conference’ every two years or so, when his behavior and attitude became so unkempt that Mr. & Mrs. Lee felt they had no other option than sending him away for a month to sleep, reset, relax and most importantly, detox.

There was something so pathetic about Dae-Seong’s ability to break bad and as punishment, spend a month being massaged and covered in salt scrubs.

Euna was relieved when her parents let her move away for university and elated when Mr. & Mrs. Lee took it one step further and sent her, each summer, to work at various branches of _Lee Enterprises_. A summer in Seoul, a winter break in London, summer in Manhattan, another winter in London, a stop in the UAE, followed by tours of the Cayman Islands and a summer in Rio. Euna was grateful for her time away from her family and absorbed everything she was learning. She didn’t just have to prove Dae-Seong wrong, she had to prove her parents right, show that her genius wasn’t due in part to her rookie status, that her prowess and instincts weren’t dismissible as beginners’ luck.

Spending winter and summer breaks at various branches, Euna let her work speak for her. She learned how to manipulate to make a sale, how to aggregate data in order to create an accurate projection of stock trades, to look at holdings of dignitaries and suggest how they could diversify their portfolios. The more she worked, the better she became. The harder she worked, the easier it was to pretend she didn’t know anything. Euna was in for the long haul, and that meant manipulating her persona to mystify and baffle the masses. A woman in power was a threat, and she would be damned if she let the company and the world take that from her.

She had watched Kwan-Min and their mother being dehumanized in the media, in board meetings, at the hands of her father and Dae-Seong. When they gave too much of themselves, the world readily ate it up, devouring them whole. As a girl, Euna watched Kwan-Min change from intelligent and driven to flirty and ditzy. She watched her sister, who she idolized in secret, disappear into the mold their father had crafted. Euna wondered how long it would be before she had to adapt a highly manicured image? A version of herself in complete juxtaposition of her ingrained personality?

It was this turmoil, this paradox, that threw Seokjin after their first meeting. She was nothing like he’d read or seen in their years at university or in the news. Though he hadn’t paid much attention to her and would admit he knew nothing about her besides the obvious, he was constantly being surprised.

“Did you check the latest model and run the analysis?” Euna asked on a Thursday some weeks into their project.

“Yeah, and it looks like, if Dr. Cho opens the market next class period, we’re going to see a major boom,” Seokjin answered. He’d been working on looking at Euna more, particularly when she spoke to him, and she found it all the more endearing.

“How major?” She asked.

“Multi-millionaires by end of week,” Seokjin informed her.

“Good, what’s going to ruin it?” Euna set her pen down and stared at Seokjin. His lips were pouted, bangs sweeping in front of his glasses. He was beautiful.

“If some major political event happens in the next four days, or if something happens in China,”

“Ah, China,” Euna said rolling her eyes. “Always have to look out for the Chinese.”

“The American market is fairly stable, but it’s the US,”

“So, hold your breath and pray it’ll be okay?” Euna chuckled, a sound Seokjin had never heard. He laughed in response. “You have a great laugh.”

“Oh, thank you,” Jin looked back at his computer. “You know, we’ll only have to monitor the project for a few more weeks.”

“Seokjin, are you trying to tell me you’ll miss me?” Euna inquired.

“Maybe, maybe I’m trying to ask if you want to hang out, maybe get a drink or coffee outside of work hours,” Seokjin shrugged, his blasé attitude ignited something within Euna. For the months they had been working together, she’d tried and failed to get him to ask her out. His disinterest in her, in anything about her, drove her crazy. He didn’t ask questions, he didn’t inquire about work or god forbid her family, or other classes she was taking, even her friends. She could have anything in the world, and yet, this man, out of reach.

“I’d like that,” She responded.

“Cool, how about coffee, this Sunday?” Jin suggested.

“I can’t Sunday, family obligations,” Euna cursed her family for what felt like the millionth time.

“Tuesday, instead of working,” Jin compromised.

“Will the numbers wait?” Euna was partially joking, which Seokjin caught immediately.

“They’re fictional numbers,” Jin reminded her.

“It’s a date,” Euna replied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (yay for exposition)


	6. Searching for Seokjin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The search for Kim Seokjin begins, and our PI makes an unexpected acquaintance.

##  **Searching for Seokjin**

_**Present Day** _

I’ll admit, the heartbreak Euna endured at the hands of Kim Seokjin felt a little too real, a little too personal, a little too familiar. Reading the chapters in her manifesto that detailed the love she had for him, reminded me of listening to Kacey Musgrave’s first album and asking, to no one in particular, _who hurt you_?

Whether or not he realized it, their five-month triste had set in motion the ways in which Euna moved through her relationships with men. It was clear that their college love story created deep seated insecurity, one that caused her to shy away from dating. Shy away, and then lean in fully and totally in a manner that would make Charles Manson go “whoa step back”. But that’s a story for later, because Seokjin never felt the extend of Euna’s love. No, that was reserved for Min Yoongi. But again, a story for another time. 

Kim Seokjin, being first on the list, was the first man I wanted to track down. He had practically no social media presence, no LinkedIn or job profiles, no known address. All Euna had to go off of was he worked at some bank in New York, but that was after graduation. Five years later, she didn’t know if he’d still be there.

“Hi, I am calling for a Mr. Kim,” I say into my phone.

“Which Mr. Kim would you be referencing?” The receptionist asks.

“Kim Seokjin,” I respond.

“Hmm, I do not have a Kim Seokjin in the directory,” She says.

“Do you happen to have a forwarding number or address?” I ask.

“No, unfortunately not. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

“No, thank you,” I hang up and gently set my phone on my desk. Of course, he didn’t still work there, what promising young man would stay at a mid-tier firm when he had the potential for such greatness, as Euna described?

I pick up my phone and dial my favorite number.

“If this is to ask me to search something for you illegally, the answer is no,” My sister says, not bothering to begin our chat with any formality.

“C, you know I have full access to the state database,” I remind her, twirling in my chair.

“Then what’s your question?” She demands.

“I need a national search,” I inform her.

“No,” C says.

“Come on, please?” I ask.

“No,” She says again.

“You know you’re the golden child, mom and dad already love you more, so can you help me out?” I plead.

“You get one chance a year to use the ‘mom and dad’ card,” She reminds me.

“Sis, this is an extenuating circumstance,” I tell her.

“Lies,” She responds.

“I’ll pay you,” I offer.

“You do know the NSA taps these phones?” She whispers, knowing full well I do.

I laugh a little too hard, “Then why are you absolutely dragging me?”

“I can’t,” She tells me, voice returning to normal volume.

“Fine.” I say, fingers moving swiftly over the keypad of my phone.

“Why do you insist on putting me on speaker?” She groans.

“It’s easier, I have many things to do,” I remind her.

“Sure, you do, like find the pennies you lost in the couch. Still enough for rent, right?”

“You can be such a bitch, you know that?” I snap.

“You still coming out with us on Friday?” She changes subjects fluidly.

“Well, I wasn’t-

“You are coming, when’s the last time you, you know, hooked up?” She asks delicately.

“I thought we were being tapped?” I laugh callously.

“No no, that’s what you’re not doing,” She reciprocates.

“You’re the worst, and I hate you,” I tell her.

“Wear something revealing,” She suggests.

“Don’t slut shame me,” I say.

“You’re insufferable,” She responds.

“Love you, mean it,” I tell her.

“Love you, mean it,” She replies.

If I know my sister, and I do, better than she realizes, tonight at the club she’ll have the information I need, the information to help me find not only Kim Seokjin, but the lot of them.

~~~~~

Dressing in what my sister would ultimately call a boring, going to work outfit, I hopped into the Uber. I knew better than to drive, the full extent of the evening outlined in detail in a message from C. She always planned elaborate nights out, which resulted in black outs, drunk hook ups and dirty dancing. C wanted the nights to remain perfect blurred memories, fuzzy in our minds, growing more and more hazy as the years progressed. She knows well enough to schedule them quarterly, if not twice a year max, maintaining their elusiveness. She invites only the best of the best, her favorite people, and being the single younger sister, I am the pet project of all her married friends. It’s fucking excruciating. I would rather be shaving my legs dry than spend a drunken night with her friends who all remember me as the braces wearing tween they met me as.

Tonight, will be no different.

I enter the club, no cover, and slip my bomber jacket off as I walk towards the bar. My sister sits on a stool, laughing uproariously at her girlfriends, shoulders exposed as she downs what I’m assuming is a Lemon Drop. Spotting me, she waves.

“You’re here!” She yells and eyes me up and down. “So glad you tried.”

“I put make up on,” I tell her, blinking my eyes slowly enough that she can see the shadow and attempt at eyeliner. “I’m even wearing foundation.”

“Wow, and what tween did you learn that from?” She asks, flagging down the bartender.

I don’t dignify her question with a response, in turn favoring the bartender. He stares at me expectantly, “Tequila, shaken,” I turn to count the party, “Ten shots.”

He nods before grabbing what I assume is the cheapest tequila from the shelf.

“For you?” Elise asks.

“For all of us,” I say winking. The bartender sets the shots down before asking if I want to close my tab. I nod, handing him my card without thinking.

“Really? Two shots and you’re done for the night?” C asks me.

“No, I just won’t be paying for them,” I reply laughing. Together we down our shots before turning to the dance floor. It’s a mess of sweating bodies, the neon lights illuminating fractions of everyone’s face, a nose here, an ear there, lips entangled over the beat of a Dua Lipa song. Clothing, soaked to the bone, clinging relentlessly onto everyone’s skin as they sweat through the music, liquor moving their limbs in wild gestures, inhibitions down, booties dropping. It’s euphoria and chaos, pleasure and sin.

I fucking love it.

My sister and I, though very different, have always had a shared love of dancing. Music bumping through speakers, full volume never being enough, in our blood. A part of us from our father, uniting our waring personas across decades, across the globe, and tonight, across the floor. Is there anything as blissful as dancing, hips swaying, arms overhead, lungs burning as we shout the lyrics. Heavenly.

I retreat from the dance floor to the bar, waiting patiently for the bartender to notice my presence.

“You look so happy out there,” A man says from behind me. I turn, surprised to see someone seated on the stool behind me. I truly almost sat on him.

“Oh, hi, yeah, thanks,” I reply, smiling softly.

“Do you think you could spare me a dance?” He asks, blush coating his cheeks.

“Tell me this,” I say, eyes absorbing his Bambi like orbs, “How many fingers does Yoda have?”

“Depends, which movie you’re talking about,” He smiles, and I swear I’ve been shot in the heart. No one should be this stunning in a dimly lit club, which means he’s going to be breathtaking in the light of day.

“So how many?” I repeat.

“Three in one film, two in another,” His nose scrunches.

“Are you a nerd or just really into bar trivia?” I ask.

“A bit of both,” He’s still smiling, and I’m wounded again.

“Good to know,” I laugh lightly.

“Can I buy you a drink?” He offers.

“I thought you wanted a dance,” I remind him, winking.

“Can I have both?” He asks, left eyebrow raising.

“Depends,” I say smirking.

“On?”

“What are you drinking?” I ask.

“Is this your game? Ask me questions to extrapolate information so you can decide if you’re interested?” He doesn’t mean to blast me, but he does.

“Oo, you do read me so well,” I wink, a poor attempt at keeping any pretense or posture intact. “Tequila shot, shaken, lemon wedge, no salt.”

He orders two shots and looks me over.

“You’re gorgeous,” He says, sincerity in his eyes.

“You are too,” I reply, eliciting a laugh from him.

“Are you usually this forthcoming?”

“Absolutely not, when you get to know me, you’ll see how closed off I truly am,” I thank the bartender before grabbing my shot. “To strangers in bars,”

“And lovers amongst the stars,” He replies.

“Shakespeare?” I smile again before tossing my shot back. “How’s about that dance?”

“On one condition,” He stands, towering over me, his black hair moving like a curtain in front of his eyes.

“What could that possibly be?” I ask, hand already reaching for his.

“Tell me your name,” He uses his new hold on my hand to pull me close to him, chests pressing against one another’s.

I stand on my tiptoes, pressing my already flushed cheek against his. “Y/N,” I say, lips grazing his decorated ear.

He turns slightly, ensuring my cheek remains against his. “Jungkook,” His voice is husky, deep and resonating. It shivers through my body, the heat from him mixing with the anticipation building. Pulling away, he smiles again, “Let’s dance.”


	7. Codename: Another Shot At Love Pt. 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lee Euna meets her next heartbreaker, Park Yoongi.

**_Codename: Another Shot At Love Pt. 1_ **

**_Summer After Graduation_ **

Lee Euna met Min Yoongi, rather Park Yoongi, during the summer after graduation. After swearing off of dating for a year and a half and graduating Magna Cum Laude next to Seokjin, she was finally ready to put herself out into the dating world again. Though overly cautious, she was quick to find herself on a date with a low-ranking coder at _Lee Enterprises_. Pale skin, dark hair, and a curious lilt in his voice, Min Yoongi was nothing like she expected. Having read through hundreds of personal files, Yoongi’s hadn’t seemed like much of anything. He hadn’t graduated from a top tier university, hadn’t received special honors or accolades. Yoongi spent his spare time taking apart software and rebuilding it, learning the ins and outs of cyber security, and mastering the art of cyber espionage, though that remained off his resume.

He came in on time and left promptly at 5PM every day. His work was good, bordering on exceptional, and his presentations to the board were always perfection. He stood out amongst his peers, but never sought promotions. When Lee Euna’s mother had insisted on her going on a date with the man, she didn’t think much of it, but Yoongi did.

“This is the plan?” Yoongi had snapped, staring at the charts and documents in front of him.

“Yes,” Namjoon said.

“You’ve got someone on the inside already, feeding this to Mrs. Lee?” Hoseok asked.

“Codename Mrs. Valentine, yes, we have a contact in her inner circle,” Namjoon said.

“How long have they been friends?” Yoongi questioned.

“Codename Cuttlefish infiltrated Mrs. Valentine’s inner circle two years ago, a few months before Mr. Handsome was brought on,” Namjoon detailed the early stages of the plan. “She’s been a successful member for over a eighteen months and has done her part to plant the idea that Yoongi, is a perfect match for Cupid.”

“You changed his last name but not his first?” Seokjin asked, head lifting from the charts in front of him.

“Easier to keep track of the lie if your first name is the same,” Yoongi informed him.

“For every mission, you’re Yoongi?” Jin asked him, lips in a pout.

“For every mission, you’ll be Seokjin,” Yoongi answered.

“Makes it easier to respond when someone calls your name too,” Namjoon said, sitting at the long table. “We need this to take, Yoongi, for our plans to continue, you have to –

“I know,” the hyung rolled his eyes.

“I’m not sure you-

“Namjoon,” Yoongi’s voice cut with seniority. “I know how to be a boyfriend.”

“But a good one?” Hoseok asked.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Yoongi snapped.

“You have a track record,” Namjoon said.

“Oh, come on!” Yoongi rolled his eyes, fury in the dark orbs.

“You’re not, the best at being in a relationship,” Hoseok said delicately.

“Fuck you, personal life doesn’t come into work,” Yoongi reminded him.

“Seokjin, in an effort to end this argument, please remind Yoongi what Euna appreciated in your relationship,” Namjoon redirected the conversation to the brainy economist who had continued working diligently on the week’s projections from _Lee Enterprises_.

“Euna wants to be heard, her family has ostracized her in every way imaginable. She liked it when her partner is gentle, delicate with her, noticing the little things about her. How she squints when she’s happy, or how the tops of her ears get red when she’s embarrassed,” Seokjin glanced at Yoongi, sizing up the man. Would Euna pay him any mind? “Euna buys two kinds of ice cream so she can have a scoop of each at the same time. She hates roses but loves peonies, she’s a sucker for cat themed anything, and hates being domineered in any situation by anyone. She isn’t into PDA of any sort, but behind closed doors, she’s clingy and warm. Euna likes being wooed, but if she’s interested, she’ll pounce. She doesn’t take no for an answer, and her boundaries become murky the further she falls. She likes intelligence and humor, but values humility and loyalty above all else. She doesn’t like jokes, or sarcasm, she’s been burned too many times to be kind to anyone. All Euna wants is to be loved and to be in love, all she wants.”

Yoongi could see in Seokjin’s eyes the questions he wanted to ask, the concern he had for his ex. He wasn’t convinced Yoongi could follow through with the operation, as a coworker or as a new love interest for his former flame. Seokjin had never been in love, what he had with Euna was as close as he ever got, and that was taken from him by these men he, at the time, barely knew. Now, almost two years later, he understood the importance of bringing him into OT7, but that didn’t mean he implicitly trusted them, especially Yoongi.

It was brutal onboarding Jin, breaking down the walls of trust and misinformation that he’d known all his life, took weeks. Seokjin could understand any set of numbers in front of him, but _Lee Enterprises_ was an entire clusterfuck he was nowhere near prepared to handle. Navigating Hoseok’s cheery demeanor, Namjoon’s philosophizing and Yoongi’s penchant to hate any amount of change, Seokjin wasn’t sure where his place was. Should he be quiet in meetings, volunteer for additional work, offer to bring everyone coffee? Or was it better to wait to be picked, wait for Namjoon to assign him something or Hoseok to ask before stepping up? While he struggled to find his place, it was clear one person wasn’t thrilled he had been brought on, Yoongi. Yoongi hated change of any kind, full stop, and no matter how Namjoon prepared him, Yoongi was still livid and uncomfortable when Seokjin was brought in.

In the weeks after the breakup, Jin navigated his mending heart and his new line of work, poorly. He hardly slept, barely maintained his 4.0 GPA, and moved like a zombie through each day. He adapted to Yoongi’s bristling personality and Hoseok’s unwavering positivity. He learned the truth about the men who were now his family and saw what the future held for him. Falling into line with them, into their line of work, was nothing he had seen for himself. But at the end of the day, he knew Euna better than the rest of them, and Yoongi was going to be a hard sell.

“Have you been here before?” Euna asked, taking her napkin from under her silverware before resting it in her lap. The date was simple, dinner and a trip to the local art museum. The latest installation from CJ Hendry, renowned artist, had opened the previous week and with his connections, Yoongi had scored two tickets. Euna was grateful he had suggested an activity she would actually enjoy.

“No, I asked around for a recommendation,” Yoongi said.

“You’re new to this part of town then?” Playing pretend was easy, Euna had pretended she wasn’t in love with Seokjin when they started dating, she could pretend she hadn’t memorized Yoongi’s file.

“Yes, I moved here after college, when I got the job,” Yoongi answered. His gaze never left hers, a trait she picked up on immediately.

“Mm, how do you like it?” Euna asked.

“The city or the work?” Yoongi clarified.

“Both,” Euna nodded, ensuring she wanted both answers.

Yoongi nodded in response. “Love the city and am enjoying the work.”

“How’s the culture? It varies between departments, but as someone on the ground-

“Euna,” Yoongi interrupted, voice soft, “We’re on a date, not in a board meeting.”

“Right, sorry, I haven’t done this in a while,” Euna’s eyes glanced around the restaurant, clocking the happy couples. “My last, relationship, ended abruptly and I’ve just been so focused on school and work that I haven’t really made time for this.”

“I understand that, I’ve been burned too,” Yoongi said, a soft smile on his lips. Euna stared at him, button down shirt, stunning coat in a black and white pattern that she had never seen before, hair gently slicked back. His features were striking in person, and his smile… She’d never seen it before. If this was as much as he could give, she’d take it. “Tell me, aside from running the biggest company in the world, what do you do for fun?”

“I don’t run it, I just work there,” Euna corrects.

“Consulting, right?”

“Yes, I consult different departments and then travel to the branches around the world,” Euna sipped her water.

“I’m sure that keeps you busy,”

“Well, I just graduated from college, so it hasn’t been too bad yet. I’ve been training for it my entire life actually,” Euna shrugged.

Feigning confusion, Yoongi asked, “How did you train for it?”

“I thought we weren’t talking about work,” Euna smirked.

“Right, absolutely,” Yoongi blushed, “Aside from work, say you have the day off, what are you doing?”

“Playing the cello, taking a hot shower, cooking something exquisite for dinner,” Euna had no trouble rattling off her favorite past times. “And you?”

“Reading, listening to music, probably deconstructing some code,” Yoongi shrugged. “Boring stuff.”

“Sometimes the most boring things can lead to the most exciting possibilities,” Euna told him.

“Who said that, Oprah?” Yoongi smiled, his lips giving way to a gummy expression. Euna’s eyes doubled at his adorable giggle.

“I don’t know, it’s just a saying I’ve always had in my mind,” She responded.

“Mm,” Yoongi nodded. Euna was everything Seokjin said, and nothing like he’d imagined. Perhaps falling in love with her would be easy. “If there’s an exciting possibility, doesn’t that make the mundane activity automatically exciting?”

“Depends if you’re a glass half full or half empty kinda guy,” Her tone was flirty, eyes daring him to push her for more.

“Definitely half empty,” Yoongi answered. Euna laughed, who would answer that way?

“Are you always so gloomy?”

“Always, especially when I’m sitting with someone so bright,” Yoongi smirked. Though it faltered as he remembered that Namjoon was somewhere, listening to every word that came from his lips. “How long have you played the cello?”

“Since I was four? Maybe younger, but my first memory is playing in a recital,”

“You a prodigy?” He laughed again, of course she was.

“Something like that,” She shrugged off the term, noting the knot in her gut that formed over it.

“You kept it up?” Yoongi asked.

“Practiced an hour a day from age five onward,” Euna replied.

“Even now?” His eyebrows were practically married to his hair line.

“Even now, though it’s not every day. I love it,” Euna answered.

Yoongi nodded thoughtfully. “You have siblings, right?”

“Correct,” She shifted in her chair. Yoongi clocked the change in body language.

“Do they play?”

“We’re not some Korean Partridge Family, if that’s what you’re asking. But they do play, piano, violin, harp,” Euna’s words were rushed, trying her hardest to get them out without providing any additional information that would warrant further discussion.

“Wow,”

“Do you?” She desperately wanted to turn the conversation to him.

“Do I what?” Yoongi looked confused. He wasn’t.

“Play,”

“Oh, a little guitar, piano,” He involuntarily moved his fingers against an imaginary set of keys.

“You any good?” Euna chided.

“You’re classically trained and you want to challenge me to a battle? Seems unfair,” He laughed again.

“Depends what’s in your arsenal,” Euna laughed in response, a sensation of hope in each dulcet note.

“You’re cute,” Smirking, Yoongi brought his glass to his lips.

“So are you.”


	8. Codename: Another Shot at Love Pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OT7 goes over plans for the next and Seokjin has drinks with an unlikely friend.

**_Codename: Another Shot at Love Pt. 2_ **

_Fall After Graduation_

It had been a rude awakening when Euna realized Seokjin wasn’t in love with her and didn’t love her. She had been so sure he did that she hadn’t questioned why he never said it, or why she never let those three words slip from her lips. When Jin had broken up with her, devastating the image of their life she had created, she swore she would be more careful. She swore this time, with Yoongi, there would be no Pinterest boards, no texting friends, no romanticizing their relationship by thinking he might be the one, no playlists in his honor. This time, she wouldn’t get her heartbroken.

Yoongi was everything Seokjin wasn’t and everything he swore he would be. He listened, he cared, he showed up when he said he would and when Euna said she loved him, he didn’t recoil. He leaned in almost as hard as she did, throwing caution to the wind.

“Do you ever think of getting married?” Euna asked in mid-October, head resting against Yoongi’s bare chest as they snuggled under the blankets of her bed. An old episode of RuPaul’s Drag Race starting in the background, casting a pink and bright light into the darkness of Euna’s bedroom.

“Uh, no not really,” Yoongi responded. “Why do you?”

“Yeah, I think it might be nice, to someday get married, have a family,” Euna snuggled closer to Yoongi, ear pressed against his heart. He inhaled slowly, monitoring the rhythm.

“Maybe, I don’t know,” Yoongi said again.

“Mm, my parents are looking forward to meeting you on Sunday,” Euna’s delicate reminder sent Yoongi’s mind into overdrive.

“Yeah, it’ll be great,” He answered.

“My siblings are very excited; they’ve never met a boyfriend of mine.”

“Can we turn this off? I’m getting tired.” Yoongi cut the conversation short, the list of things he had to do before Sunday ran through his mind unperturbed.

“Yeah, of course,” Euna sat up and looked at him, his words had hinted at distress, but his eyes were calm.

Leaning in to place a soft kiss on her lips, Yoongi muttered, “Goodnight,”

“Goodnight, love you,” Euna said. Yoongi only nodded before laying down and closing his eyes. He was fucked.

~~~~~

“She wants to marry you?” Seokjin nearly yelled as he looked over parts of the transcripts from last night.

“No, she wants to get married, to someone, and have kids,” Yoongi corrected.

“How many months has it been?” Hoseok asked, eyes moving from his documents.

“Four,” Seokjin and Yoongi said at the same time.

“You have to make it a few more months,” Namjoon reminded him.

“She’s planning a wedding!” Yoongi yelled.

“Have you bugged her computer?” Namjoon asked.

“Yes, she has several Pinterest boards, but they have been inactive for nearly two years,” Yoongi had deep dived her accounts, scoured them for any sign of mistrust or malfeasance, all he’d found was Pinterest boards dedicated to the life she thought she was building, or could be building, with Seokjin. It was all wishful thinking, honest to god hope that Cupid had placed in their relationship. Yoongi felt remorseful that his intentions weren’t pure, all she wanted was to find love that was different from what her family had given her. He couldn’t fault her for that desire.

“Okay, so she’s not planning your wedding yet, which is fine. You’re not going to marry her.” Hoseok was busy updating Yoongi’s driver’s license, the fake was near expiration and the mandates had changed.

“How ethical is it to continue a relationship when you’re not in love, and don’t want to be with that person?” Seokjin looked from Yoongi to Namjoon, hoping one of them would have an answer.

“Cupid isn’t a person, she’s part of an organization that is ruining the globe,” Yoongi snapped.

Stepping in before the men could continue sparring, Namjoon spoke, “We have a plan, Yoongi just has to stick with it.”

“Four more months?” Yoongi asked.

“Give or take,” Namjoon said.

“Fine, but if it gets any fucking weirder –

“You can start becoming distant January 1, that’s the earliest phase 3 can be enacted,”

“Fine,” Yoongi grit his teeth.

“You’re meeting the family next week, are you ready?”

“That also seems a bit much, right?” Seokjin asked.

“Worldwide, shut up.” Yoongi wasn’t all bite, but when it came to work, there was no space for his gummy smile and penchant for random dancing.

“Yoongi,” Namjoon warned.

“I know the plan. Dinner, ask leading questions, hint at CEO, get a read on how Cuttlefish is doing, snoop,” Recited Yoongi, “And it wasn’t me who suggested the dinner, it was Cupid.”

Seokjin nods, knowing he overstepped his bounds. _Trust Yoongi_ , Namjoon’s voice rung in his ears. _Trust Yoongi._

“We’ve got Mochi set to go?” Namjoon asked Yoongi.

“Yeah, he’s got a trainee running security while he’s with his mark,” Yoongi answered, still seething at Jin.

“Where do these trainees come from?” Seokjin asked.

“Did you wake up today and decide you wanted to be deeply annoying?” Yoongi’s eyes narrowed at Jin, daggers glaring into his hyung. “Because you’re fucking excelling.”

“Yoongi, go to your office and prepare,” Namjoon snapped, tired of the bad attitude Yoongi had been sporting since Euna brought up marriage. “If you’re going to be a dick, be a dick alone.”

“Fine,” Yoongi huffed.

Namjoon turned his attention from Yoongi to Seokjin. “Yoongi isn’t always-

“It’s been over a year, he still doesn’t like me,” Jin interrupted. “I’ve done exactly what he’s asked me, brought him coffee, tried to become his friend, and he continues to look at me as if I’m Dick Cheney, circa 2006.”

“It’s not a you-thing, Jin,” Namjoon took his glasses off before placing his hands over his face. “Yoongi doesn’t like change. He’s usually easy going, and in his heart, he’s very soft and welcoming. But you’re the eldest now, you bring a new energy that in whatever way, plays up his, and brings out Hoseok. He wants to be your friend, he does, but he has a hard time crossing the line between colleagues and friends who hang out in their free time. He’s been through a lot, and this relationship with Cupid is bringing up every emotion he thought he’d worked through. He’s been working his ass off for four years on this case and wasn’t in any place to be in a relationship this intense. Yoongi doesn’t get close to people until they prove themselves to him. Don’t ask me what the test is, I don’t know, but please, be understanding and patient. He’ll come around.” 

“If you say so,” Seokjin mumbled. Gathering his things, he stood to walk towards his office. Yoongi watched as he passed, knowing full well he owed Jin an apology.

“You wanna get a beer after work?” Yoongi had followed Jin to his office and stood in the door frame, head covered in a black beanie, matching his black v-neck and dark wash jeans. He looked like he was ready to begin hibernating.

“You’re speaking to me?” Jin didn’t look up from his monitor, his college behavior, one that Euna had worked so hard to get rid of, had come back in full force.

“Yeah, and I’m sorry I was a dick. You wanna get a beer after work?”

“Your apology sucks, but sure,” Jin responded.

“Cool, wheels up at 7,” Yoongi shuffled back to his office, glancing at Namjoon through the glass and rolling his eyes at the smirk on his boss’ face.

~~~~~

The bar wasn’t crowded when Seokjin and Yoongi walked in, and finding a table easily lent itself to an awkward few minutes waiting for the server. Yoongi moved through the space with ease, a telltale sign he’d been there before. In his year working with OT7, Jin had learned a lot about how to be perceptive and cunning, how to notice things he had once overlooked. He’d taken a page from Henry Spencer’s book, and mindlessly counted the hats in the room. It was too easy, with ten people in the bar, the only hat belonged to Yoongi.

“Look, I don’t do well with change. I’m sure Namjoon has told you as much,” Yoongi started. 

“Yeah, he did.”

“I have very few friends, I’m not great at relationships of any kind,” Yoongi explained. “I’ve never, I’m not good at it.”

“Do you want to be?” Seokjin asked.

“Yeah, I’ve been trying. Joonie and Hobi have been great.”

“Joonie?” Seokjin giggled.

“Yeah, when he lets you into his inner circle, you can call him Joonie,” Yoongi laughed. “I’m sure he’ll like, take you to a Bonsai garden and explain his life too,”

“Why are you the first?”

“I’m the most guarded, and the eldest until you,” Yoongi sipped his beer.

“So how exactly did you –

“You don’t join our group or go looking for us. We find you,”

“Like how you found me?” Jin asked.

“Like how they found all of us, except Joon. But that’s his story to tell.”

“When did they find you?”

“I started training when I was 17, but before that I was already coding,” Yoongi told him. “They showed up at my house, Namjoon in tow.”

“Namjoon was there?”

“He was so small, he looked so scared. He’s only a year younger than me but I could tell he’d seen some shit. Anyway, they talked to my parents who decided I could forgo my basic, subpar high school experience and work full time. Hobi joined shortly after and the three of us became brothers. They’ve been my best friends for what feels like decades. I’d bleed for them, and they’d do the same for me, no questions asked.” Yoongi told him.

Jin nodded, he’d sensed the impenetrable bond between the men when he’d first arrived. Yoongi was right, Hobi and Namjoon had wanted to take him out, have a heart to heart, a melding of the minds, but Yoongi, as the eldest, was the first to follow through.

Sipping his beer, Seokjin spoke, “Have you always been on security?”

“Yes,” Yoongi answered.

“How did they find you?” It was a question he’d been wanting to ask for over a year, how did we all end up here, and who do we work for?

Smirking, Yoongi answered with a shrug of his shoulders. “Allegedly I broke into too many government agencies across the globe,”

“What?” The shock on his face couldn’t be erased.

Shrugging again, “Allegedly,”

“Allegedly, you figured out how to de-crypt and force your way into government systems to do what? Steal information?” Seokjin’s voice was a hushed whisper, eyes never leaving Yoongi’s but conscious of the loitering individuals around them.

“Allegedly, it was just for fun,” Yoongi smiled as he laughed, gums on display, his antics proving to be humorous all these years later.

“Allegedly, how old were you?”

“Oh, like 16,” Yoongi sipped his beer.

“16?”

“They catch us young,” He answered.

Pushing his way through his concern, Seokjin asked, “Which country was the easiest?”

“Anyone in South America, Europe, US and Canada were allegedly, child’s play,”

Seokjin sat with that for a moment, thinking through the countries and continents left. “Asia the hardest?”

“Asia, Russia, some African countries, Iraq, Iran, Afghanistan, Saudi Arabia, UAE, very difficult, but allegedly, not impossible.” Yoongi wasn’t laughing anymore, a smirk replaced his joyous grin.

“You’re a badass,” Seokjin spoke without thinking.

“Yes,”

“Do you like work?” Jin questioned.

“I love it. Do you like it?”

“I don’t know yet,” He shrugged.

“Mm, you hate that I’m dating Cupid,” Yoongi offered.

Pausing to acknowledge the feeling in his chest, he took a beat before answering. “I’m not jealous, I just, I wish we had had a better ending. It feels so unresolved, and tenuous. She deserved more than what I could give her.”

“Yeah, but that’s the job,”

“I don’t have to like it just because that’s the job,” Jin rolled his eyes.

“True, but you have to get over it.”

“Why did the marriage talk really freak you out?”

“I have a fucking heart, Jin,” Yoongi exhaled slowly, “Just because it isn’t in this relationship, doesn’t mean I want to break hers. Now I have to deceive her? That’s fucking brutal, she’s barely recovered from you.”

“Do you have feelings for her?” Jin wanted to know.

“No,”

“No?”

“Cupid is nice, but, honestly, I threw a fit when Joon brought me the plan.”

“He didn’t come up with the plan?”

“What you have to understand,” Yoongi lowered his voice, “is that there’s always someone to answer to. _Always_.”

“You don’t want to get married?” said Jin.

“I might, someday, but like I said, I’m not good with relationships,” Yoongi was nothing but truthful and sincere.

“That’s what you have to remember when you have dinner with the _Valentine’s_ ,” Seokjin said absentmindedly. “They’re all so desperate to be loved, that every relationship they’re in becomes overwhelmed by their desire to keep it afloat. Their worst relationships, though, without a doubt, are the ones they have with each other.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (pls let me know if you're enjoying this series... share it... tell your friends)


	9. Codename: Another Shot at Love Pt. 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Codename Suga joins Codename Cupid at her parents house for family dinner. It’s both everything he imagined, and so much worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: Swearing, Legal Alcohol Consumption, Degradation, Humiliation, Verbal Abuse, Horrible Family, Bullying, Sibling Rivalries, Homophobia, Toxic Masculinity

##  **_Codename: Another Shot at Love Part 3_ **

**_Fall Post Graduation_ **

Park Yoongi, _Codename Suga_ , arrived at the Lee residence dressed to the nines, a new suit, top of the line glasses and Ferragamo loafers that Hoseok had picked out especially for him. Nothing about his look screamed mid-level employee at a top-level bank, or government agent bent on destroying a company from within, which was the point. Namjoon had determined that to impress the Lee’s, _Codename Valentine,_ Suga had to be runway ready. His hair was slicked back, and in his arms, a bottle of Makers 46, a bottle Cupid had ensured her father would appreciate. In his ear, a flesh-colored earpiece, specially designed, allowing his teammates, _Codenames RM, Worldwide Handsome and J-Hope_ , to feed him lines when needed.

Adjusting his spectacles and turning them on, Suga’s vision was momentarily blocked as the sensors began their job scanning everything and everyone insight, transmitting data in real time to his set up at OT7 headquarters. The glasses, a creation he had spent the better part of a year working on, were a modification of his third-generation specs. Not only could they recognize faces, scan for heat sensors, but log sounds such as alarm codes and lock patterns, decoding their passcodes in seconds. This was a marked improvement from the generation twos, which recorded sound and took up to 24 hours to decode. The recorded surveillance was wired through the major databases used by OT7 to track down faces of everyone Suga came in contact with. Tonight, their goal was to memorize every aspect of the Lee’s estate, transmit the layout into a CAD (computer aided design) drawing and print a scaled blueprint. They were also responsible for identifying every human in the Lee’s house, pulling names, birthdays, permanent addresses and social security numbers. In his glasses case, Suga had placed several microscopic microphones, which he placed on any surface he touched. They might not have eyes inside the mansion, but OT7 would have ears.

“Park Yoongi,” The attendant declared as he stepped through the foyer and into the sitting room, where the entire Lee, _Codename Valentine_ , family sat waiting for him.

“Good evening,” Yoongi bowed deeply, a remnant of his heritage and a sign of respect.

“Yoongi!” Euna said, standing and quickly wrapping her arms around his neck. Leaning in, she placed a delicate kiss on his cheek. “Mom, dad, this is Yoongi, my boyfriend.”

Mr. Lee rose, looked Yoongi up and down before he spoke, “I hear you work for us. Good.”

“Yes, sir, I do,” Yoongi nodded.

“Your work is good, you fly under the radar, if you’re to continue this with Euna, you will need to do better,” Mr. Lee extended his hand, shaking Yoongi’s, before moving past him.

“Sir, I brought you a gift, I heard it’s one of your favorites,” Yoongi handed the man the bottle and watched as he unwrapped it. His oafish hands tore through the tissue paper, impatient to get his hands on something he didn’t buy but eagerly wanted.

“Ahh, a bribe, _thoughtful_ ,” Mr. Lee said before handing the bottle to the head of house, who had quietly walked into the room. She took it and carefully moved to place it on the shelf which housed an impressive collection of whiskey.

Mrs. Lee looked at her cohort of older children. “Don’t be rude.”

The three children rose and walked towards Yoongi. Towering over him, Dae-Seong and Jun-Seo glared down at him, a sinister smirk on both their faces.

“Dae-Seong,” He said, squeezing Yoongi’s hand harder than necessary.

“Jun-Seo,” He repeated the action, his hold lighter, his smirk faded into a thin line, laced with more concern than Yoongi imagined Dae-Seong could ever muster.

“Yoongi,” Kwan-Min bowed before extending her hand, “Kwan-Min.” Her smile mirrored Euna’s, gentle and vibrant. Her eyes told the same story as her brothers, _watch your back._

“Nice to meet you,” Yoongi responded. Carefully taking a seat next to Euna, he smiled tersely at the family.

“Yoongi, tell us about yourself,” Mrs. Lee requested. She slowly clinked the perfectly shaped sphere of ice in her glass, it slowly melting into the brown liquid.

“Is there anything specific you want to know?” He responds politely.

“Your file is thin, you don’t seem to want to advance at _Lee Enterprises_ , so how’d you end up here?” Dae-Seong doesn’t mince words. Much like the booming timbre of his voice, his words cut straight to the point.

“I worked in the Manhattan branch every summer of college, had two internships my junior and senior year, and then applied for an entry level position,” Yoongi could hear Namjoon, _Codename RM_ , in his ear, repeating the fabricated story made ever more real by Hoseok’s ability to forge documents.

“They moved you out here?” Mr. Lee questioned.

“Yes, they asked if I would transfer,” Yoongi replied.

“Why?” Dae-Seong was perplexed, no new hire was asked to transfer unless they were a problem worth handling.

“They said I was polished, and my work was good,” Yoongi shrugged. WWH reminded him to lean into the nonchalance, the ultimate fuck-you attitude the Lee’s hated.

“Seems vague,” Jun-Seo remarked. “Your childhood was rather bleak, wasn’t it?”

“It wasn’t the best, but it was temporary,” Yoongi knew this was the line of questioning they’d take, and not just with him, with anyone not from the upper echelon, anyone not worth less than 100 million.

“Your parents were, sorry, _are_ , quite poor,” Dae-Seong pressed.

“Poor to some is rich to others,” Yoongi answered.

“But poor is still, _poor_ ,” Jun-Seo responded.

“You haven’t dated much, either have you Yoongi?” Kwan-Min’s voice was velvet, soft and supple in the tense air.

“I’ve had a few relationships, but none like Euna,” Mr. World Wide’s voice was clear and gentle, _sell it Suga_.

“What makes her so different? Clearly you see things that we don’t,” Dae-Seong snorted back a laugh, it was a hideous sound, loud and haunting.

“I see a lot of things in Euna. She’s thoughtful, considerate, she’s caring and funny. She accepts me for who I am, and makes me a better person,” Yoongi laid on the compliments like he hadn’t spent the last two weeks rehearsing them for OT7.

It had taken him a while to list the characteristics he liked about Cupid, and ultimately had recruited WWH to write it for him. He stared at the words Mr. Handsome wrote, and was shocked that he still cared this much about her. Yoongi felt none of these things, none of these adjectives or memories that Mr. Handsome had strewn together resonated with him in the slightest. Cupid was a mark, a pawn in the play, nothing more.

“Huh, lucky someone does,” Jun-Seo laughed, ribbing Dae-Seong and leading him in a cackle all their own. Yoongi glanced at Euna to see her jaw set, cheeks flushed, eyes glossed.

“Jun-Seo, you have a guest,” The attendant from the front door announced, standing taught at the door. A blond-haired man entered, smirking with a hint of humor. Yoongi stared at his dazzling smile and kind eyes. 

“You made it!” Jun-Seo stood to engulf the man in a hug, lips pressing aggressively to his lips. “I thought you said you were busy.”

“I got away,” The blond responded.

“It’s lovely to see you,” Mrs. Lee stood to embrace the man, followed by Kwan-Min. Yoongi watched carefully as Dae-Seong and Mr. Lee scowled, arms crossed, brows set. They didn’t have to speak their distaste for Jun-Seo’s apparent partner, it was written in their body language.

“It’s lovely to see you too,” He said. His eyes didn’t glance at the elder males but landed squarely on Yoongi and Euna.

“Lee Euna, is that how you greet me?” He questioned, a hand resting on his hip, hair lightly falling in his eyes.

“I’m so happy to see you!” She bounded off the settee towards him, arms around his neck, holding him close. “I didn’t think I’d get to see you before the big trip!”

Yoongi stared, dumbfounded, and blinked quickly, trying to understand the rapid change in her demeanor. Gone were the tears, the anger, the hate that was coursing through her body. It was replaced with care? Genuine excitement? What the hell is the big trip?

“I had to get in one more family dinner before I’m gone for the month,” The blond smiled warmly at Euna, a twinkle in his eye as he glanced at Yoongi. “Is that?”

“Oh! This is my boyfriend, Park Yoongi. Yoongi, meet Jun-Seo’s partner, Cho Jimin,” Euna said. The two men exchanged a handshake before sitting down next to their respective partners.

“How long have you and Jun-Seo been together?” Yoongi inquired.

“Hm, a year?” Jun-Seo replied, a hand resting gently on Jimin’s thigh.

“Did you meet at work or-

“Twenty questions with the twinks! Line em up, it’s time to play!” Dae-Seong yelled, earning a chuckle from his father. “First question, who tops and who bottoms? Follow up, is Jun-Seo as weak of a top as he-

“Dinner is ready,” The head of house said, stepping into the room just in time. Rolling his eyes, Dae-Seong stood.

“You’re gonna need your strength,” He winked at Jimin before brushing past them and heading for the dining room. Yoongi followed obediently and cautiously, taking his time putting one foot in front of the other as he followed the Lee’s. Pausing every so often, he carefully trailed a finger over a surface, leaving a singular mic, completely invisible, behind.

The dining room was stunning, taken out of the palace of Versailles with a Korean twist, the marble floors and ornate chandeliers were out of this world. Flowers blooming in ancient vases, artwork that looked to be that of Picasso and An Kyŏn, Monet and Manet, lining the walls like the Louvre. There wasn’t anything the Lee’s money couldn’t buy, even 15th century originals were bound to become fodder in their quest for prestige.

Draped across the table, a gold runner, glittering with what could only be described as actual gold flakes. Waterford Crystal glasses, and hand painted china rested delicately against the gold, the white shining brilliantly under the lights of the chandelier. Awaiting the guests, an endless array of traditional Korean food: Jjajangmyeon, Bulgogi, Samgyetang, Kalguksu, Galbi, Dubu Kimchi, Kimchi Fried Rice, with bowls of Hobakjuk as everyone’s appetizers, and Gyeranjjim waiting on a refined plate to be consumed with each passing spice.

Yoongi’s eyes were wide, his lungs breathing rapidly to take in the scents of home, of familiarity. How peculiar to be eating the cuisine of his ancestors, of his blood, in a room with people who would willing spill each other’s.

“Yoongi, sit next to Dae-Seong.” Mr. Lee instructed.

 _Excellent_ , Namjoon muttered in his ear.

“Dae-Seong, I hear that you’re making quite a splash as the Chairman,” Yoongi voiced.

“Only bottom feeders eat my ass, Yoongi. For that you need to see Jun-Seo, appointment only,” Dae-Seong rolled his eyes.

“Please, do not speak of your brother’s depravity at dinner. Save it for dessert,” Mr. Lee scolded, eyes hard on Dae-Seong.

“When are we going to discuss Kwan-Min’s latest triste?” Jun-Seo inquired.

“Now seems like the perfect opportunity,” Mr. Lee answered. “Dae-Seong?”

In some sort of twisted ritual, Dae-Seong cracked his knuckles, then his neck, swirled a sip of whiskey between his lips and leaned in. Batting his eyes delicately at Kwan, he bared his teeth. Yoongi restrained from asking “ _you getting this_?” to his team, because they were in fact, watching with bated breath.

“The category is, colossal fuck ups. The reining champ, for the first time in, Euna, how old are you? Never mind, age has no number when you’re a twat. Kwan-Min, for a million dollars, explain how you found yourself cunt up with a political fundraiser? I’m sorry, a Republican political fundraiser?”

Mrs. Lee gasped, her soup spoon dropping aggressively into her bowl, rattling the china. Euna didn’t look up, but quietly shoveled soup into her mouth, feigning ignorance.

“Kwan-Min, how could you?” Mrs. Lee demanded.

“If the rumors are true, and we’ll need Jun to confirm, Mr. Brady, I believe?” Dae-Seong inhales, eyes never leaving Kwan’s, voice even, “He’s particularly gifted in a few areas, and very well endowed and what was that other word? Oh yes, _generous_.”

“Quite a generous tongue on that one,” Jun responded, shame flickering past his eyes in a brief moment before his resolve solidified.

“How could you?” Mrs. Lee repeats again. “You are the second eldest of this family, the face of our philanthropy, and you are consorting with a known republican? Not to mention a man so cruel he, he,

“He thinks Dae-Seong is weak,” Euna spoke. Her wavering voice echoed over the table, everyone’s eyes turning to her. “I mean, that’s what you’re doing, right Kwan? Find someone so repugnant that Dae is outraged, spurring on another break down in hopes he’ll OD and you’ll what, become chairwoman of the board?”

“Fuck you for insinuating I make my decisions based on Dae. Do you live and breathe at his request?” Kwan spat, the heat from the food and the fight rising in her cheeks.

“No,” Euna was incredulous, how could Kwan assume that?

Through gritted teeth she responded, “Neither do I.”

“For two million, Mr. Chairman,” Jun motioned toward Dae, “explain to us how you could be fucking a member of the opposing party, who has tried to ruin this family numerous times? Is the dick that great?” Jun-Seo pressed.

“Don’t pretend that you haven’t fucked him, fag,” Dae laughed. “You two are the biggest whores in the game.”

“That’s not true,”

“The fact that you’re Eskimo siblings, not once, not twice, but have shared more than three sexual partners is revolting. You’re fucking freaks, sodomizing the legacy of this family for some log cabin taint who can’t even be bothered to pay the child support for the kids he knows about.”

“How do you know so many categories of gay men?” Euna asked, eyes narrowing at Dae-Seong, “You been experimenting?”

“Oh, don’t even get me started on you and your choices, Euna,” Dae rolled his eyes then glanced at Jun-Seo, who was sneering at him.

“What could you possibly say that you haven’t before?” Euna cackled, a sound so foreign Yoongi can’t help but feel his eyes bug out.

 _“Whoa,”_ Mr. Handsome says in his ear.

 _“Oh shit,”_ RM responds. 

“You’re not even worth discussing,” Kwan-Min stepped in, and swinging the last of her cocktail back, she turned to Dae-Seong. “I’m more interested in your affinity for homosexual stereotypes. Tell me, when you’re alone in your house, your wife sleeping in a separate apartment, cities away, is that what you’re watching? Is that what gets you off? Picturing a willing gaping hole, just waiting to be ruined? Or no, I’m sorry, but Jun, don’t you think he’d be-

“A power bottom? Absolutely, he spends his nights ogling over submissive bears, trying to find one big enough to fill him, scrolling through chatrooms under, what was his username?” Jun-Seo doesn’t look at Kwan, he knows she understands what is about to transpire.

“Beary-willing007,” They recite together.

J-Hope guffaws in Suga’s ear, followed by a loud _“oh shit!”_

“I can’t imagine how it would look if your little, what did you call it?” Kwan asked.

“The twink or the fag?” Jun-Seo repeated Dae’s words so seamlessly, so effortlessly, to a blind eye it would’ve been hard to tell that Jun wasn’t Dae’s twin.

“Both, if your nefarious activities and browser history was discovered, or dare a say, leaked?” Kwan raised an eyebrow.

“You think you scare me?” Dae-Seong asked. “Summer, 2012, what happened to you?”

“Why would you bring that up?” Kwan’s glare faltered, a subtle shift in her brow, the sneer dipping before returning at full capacity.

 _“We need to know what happened summer 12_ ,” RM stated, voice low as he jotted down the date.

“You want to throw dirty laundry out into the open, might as well air yours,”

“Fuck you,”

“I didn’t start this,”

“Yes you did,”

“Jun-Seo, care to tell us what happened to you winter, 2014?”

“No,”

“I thought so,” Dae pointed his knife at each of them, “Before you go accusing me of being a fucking homo, check that I don’t have your history sealed and filed.”

 _“Did you get that?”_ RM asked.

 _“Yeah, got it,”_ J-Hope responded.

“And Euna,” Dae turned his attention to his youngest sibling, who sat quietly eating her food. “Don’t ever bring a bottom feeder home again, unless he’s going to eat my ass, you hear me? Or I will do to you what was done to Kwan-pussy-ass-Min.”

“Fuck you Dae,” Euna spewed.

“Excuse me?” He yelled, standing to his full height.

“I said, fuck you,” Euna repeated with a little more gumption.

“Oh Euna, little Euna, too smart for everyone, too polite and meek to ever be taken seriously, to fucking boring and oblivious to know that her boyfriend’s only date her for access or career status, so stupid that she can’t recognize that the only reason she’s getting the company is that she’s so incompetent, no one will believe her when –

“Dae-Seong!” Mr. Lee yelled.

“Don’t bring a fucking knife to a gun fight, Euna, I will end you.” He seethed.

“What is your problem with Yoongi? He’s the first man I bring home and you-

“What do you not understand about our family? What do you not understand about the caliber of person we need to be with in order to-

“What, watch porn, order sex workers and pray the gay away?” Euna yelled.

“Watch your tone,” Mr. Valentine said.

“You’re acting like you don’t have secrets, like your marriage is pure and good, it’s not Dae. I don’t blame her for leaving you, anyone with a modicum of sense would see that you are nothing more than a toxic, manipulative, alcoholic coke head, who only has his job because daddy loves him the most.”

“You think your relationship with Yoongi is going to be any different?” Jun-Seo spoke up, deflecting from the rising anger in Dae. “What makes you so special?”

“First, I love him,” Euna responded, earning a scoff and eyeroll from every member of the Lee family. “Second, if he makes it out alive from this dinner with you assholes, then he truly is the most resilient person in the world. Finally,”

“Thank fuck,” Jun-Seo exclaimed.

“Finally, he was raised to be kind and respectful, unlike the four of us,” Euna concluded with a haughty exhale and a glare at her mother.

“Wait – are you sure that’s not just Seokjin in a new suit?” Dae-Seong cackled, nodding at their father who also laughed.

“I hate this family,” Euna rose and tossed her napkin on the floor, a dramatic flair that sent her brothers and father into a fit of laughter.

“You act like you aren’t the ingrown hair on the taint of this family, and I think I speak for all of us when I say that I would love to extract you,” Dae said.

His words hung in the air as Euna walked out of the living room, Yoongi on her tail.

Catching up to her, Yoongi reached for her hand, which she hastily pulled away.

“Euna,” His voice was measured.

“Can we please just go?” She whispered, tears beginning to stream down her face.

“Yeah, can I just run to the bathroom quick? Grab the coats and I’ll meet you outside,” He pressed a kiss to her forehead before following one of the workers to the nearest bathroom. Hoping to shake the worker, Yoongi deftly exited the bathroom before wandering down the hall. He followed the sound of voices and stopped short of what he assumed was Mr. Lee’s office.

Mr. Lee stood next to Dae-Seong, a fresh glass of whiskey in hand. “Did you read the brief on UAE?”

“Yes,” Dae-Seong answered.

“I want your recommendations tomorrow by 9AM,” Mr. Lee instructed, “None of that pussy shit you drew up for Spain, either.”

“Pussy shit in Spain is child’s play in the Emirates. I’ll bring something, nuclear,”

“Don’t jerk me around like you do with your pathetic excuse for a cock, Dae. I do not want to have to fire you and replace you with Jun-Seo,” Mr. Lee slammed his glass down before retreating through a door Yoongi hadn’t seen when he’d glanced in.

“I’m sorry father, I will have the materials ready,” Dae’s voice was pathetic, deflated in the wake of his father’s anger. He hated being belittled and demeaned, hated the hurt his father hurled at him, the constant need for him to be better than everyone else. He hated how easily it came to Euna, how she could understand the numbers and draw connections within seconds of being presented with the problem. He hated Euna’s prowess, how businessmen and women flocked to her, a cello prodigy, ballet star in training, perfect grades, whored out to different branches so she could learn the business. Every fuck up Dae-Seong had made resulted in Euna’s success, and their father and mother, though more covertly, had egged his jealousy on.

Yoongi placed a mic on the inside of the door before slipping back into the hallway and out of the Lee estate, to Euna’s embrace.

“Your place or mine?” He asked as he sat in the driver’s seat of his car.

“Anywhere but here,” She responded, eyes blinking down tears as Yoongi drove.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I am OBSESSED with this chapter)


	10. Searching for Seokjin Pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The P.I.(Y/N) wakes up in the arms of the man from the bar, Jungkook, and goes on another quest to find the first man who broke Lee Euna’s heart.

##  _**Searching for Seokjin Pt. 2** _

_**Present Day** _

I awoke the following day to untangle myself from Jungkook, whose arms and legs ensnared my own. His warmth radiated through me, lingering as I step out of bed, my bed, and am grateful to be fully clothed. Somewhere between making out and drinking a gallon of water, we had found ourselves snuggled under my duvet, and sometime after midnight, nearing 2AM, we had fallen asleep. If I wasn’t careful, this was going to turn into a whole sleeping together twice and having sex once or whatever nonsense Cameron Diaz spewed in _The Holiday_.

It’s not often that I sleep through the night or sleep well. It’s rare that I find the silence of my apartment comforting in the slightest, which is evident by the industrial locks on my door and windows, coupled with the registered gun in my nightstand – never loaded – or the countless surveillance measures I’ve put in place to guarantee my safety. The countless hours I’ve accumulated listening to meditation, ASMR videos, are all signs that my line of work brings little to no peace of mind.

I will never admit to sleeping well in a man’s arms, but damnit if I didn’t sleep like I’d rubbed CBD oil all over my body and cocooned myself in Egyptian cotton. Jungkook’s arms are nothing like anything I’ve experienced before. They’re strong, assuming, muscular yet lean. His right, decorated in a tight sleeve of tattoos, expressing the deepest parts of his life, flexes lightly, holding me to him. I could spend days, weeks, months, tracing the lines on his skin, asking him questions, wondering aloud the meaning behind the ink. Jungkook’s body is strong, impenetrable, washboard abs that I could easily wash my dirtiest of laundry on, but it’s his eyes and smile that give him away. He’s soft, he’s cozy, he’s inviting and he’s respectful and sexy and mysterious and all-consuming at the same time. He’s all I want to think about, and I know he’s all that’s going to be occupying my mind until I see him again.

I turn the coffee maker on and open the fridge to see what I can scrounge up for breakfast. Miraculously, the hangover is non-existent, most likely because I drank so much water before falling asleep, in an attempt to stare into his eyes, like a galaxy, ever expanding as they pulled me in.

“Morning beautiful,” Jungkook says, a tattooed hand running through his raven hair. His bare chest confronts me, the wide expanse I had spent the better part of 8 hours pressed upon, staring unapologetically.

“Hi,” My voice is a soft whisper. “You sleep okay?”

“Mm, best night sleep I’ve had in a while. Your mattress is insanely comfortable,” His smile is light, bright and glowing.

“Oh, so it wasn’t snuggling with me?” I question.

He tilts his head, unsure, “Snuggling?”

“Yes?” My confidence is wavering.

“Cuddling,” He says.

“Snuggling,” I reply.

“Cuddling,” Jungkook’s smile grows.

“They’re the same thing,” I inform him.

“Are they? Snuggling sounds like, like _leaning_ ,” He takes a step towards me. I’m very aware that I remain pantless.

“Oh god, how many times have you seen _While You Were Sleeping_?” I allow him to cage me in against the fridge, his forearm resting against the cool stainless steel.

“Enough to know that leaning is a sign of mutual want, it’s about desire, craving, needing,” He recites.

“Leaning,” I whisper, my breath a ghost across his lips.

“Wanting,” He closes the space between us, his gentle and velvet lips press delicately against mine, the dull roar of heat building as he slips has hand up my thigh to rest on my hip, under my shirt. He licks my bottom lip gingerly before parting them and welcoming my tongue into his mouth. The pressure of my tongue on his releases a low moan as my hands rest on his pecks. I am fully aware that I could do this forever.

Jungkook pulls away first, slowly disentangling his lips from mine.

“Are you saying you want me?” I ask, eyes still closed.

“Do you want me?” He retorts.

“I asked you first,” I tease.

“Can I take you to breakfast?” His eyes are unwavering as they stare into mine, the authenticity and kindness washes over me, a blush coating my cheeks.

“Like a first date?” My teeth pull the inside of my lip into their grasp. I haven’t gone on a first date in a while, let alone with a man like Jungkook.

“I’d like to think last night was our first date,” He says, hands still on my hip, thumb drawing circles on my skin. The sensation is calming, a trance coming over me as my body responds gently to his.

“I’m cool with that,” I say. “Do you want to shower or anything before we go? I know I don’t have anything for you to borrow…”

“A shower would be great,” Jungkook nods.

“Without me,” I clarify.

“Oh?” He quirks an eyebrow, a trait I’m already starting to find sensual.

I smile, “But maybe after you buy me breakfast, we’ll see.”

“Maybe after I buy you breakfast, I can take you on a traditional date, dinner and a movie? Earn my keep?” He counters, leaning in again to press an adoring kiss on my lips.

“You don’t have to earn anything,” I say.

“That’s good to know,” He responds. I can tell in his eyes that he’s had to pay a price before, someone down the line made his love a commodity, not something worth freely giving or receiving, but _earning_. He was worth something, and its sinister ramifications still remained in the darkness of his irises.

“I’m not a prude, I just, your eyes,” I clarify.

He opens his eyes wider, “My eyes?”

“Yeah, I want to know what I’m going to be drowning in before I take the dive,” I tell him. My hands, still on his forearms, move up and down gently, an offer of comfort in this moment of vulnerability.

“You’re so poetic,” He earnestly responds.

“I minored in English,” I tell him.

“Mm, what do you think about dinner?” Jungkook asks again.

“How do you know you won’t be sick of me?” The question, flying out of my lips before I can stop it, insecurity flinches across my face.

Jungkook, though, laughs, his nose scrunching softly. “How about Monday, you free Monday say 6:30?”

“I can do Monday at 6:30,” I tell him, “You’ll pick me up?”

“Absolutely,” He nods.

Inhaling, I ask again, “You won’t be sick of me?”

“I’m not sure I’m ever going to be sick of you, but ask me again in a few months,” Raven eyes, wide like saucers, sincerity abounding, bring calm to my intense, laser focused, unwaveringly anxious orbs.

“You’re really sexy,” Deflecting, I speak again. Anything would be better than a conversation about my vulnerabilities. “I’m not so sure we’re going to make it to break-

His lips are on mine before I finish the sentence. His hands, once drawing tantalizing shapes on my skin, have now pulled me to him, his hips grinding into mine. His gorgeous digits sprawl against my ass, anything to get me closer to him. I in turn have wrapped my arms around his neck, hands entangling in his locks. I can’t stop the moans that escape my lips as he grinds into me again.

“We’re never going to make it to breakfast,” My voice comes out between a moan and a breathy whisper, Jungkook’s lips leaving wet open-mouthed kisses down my neck, teeth nipping my collarbone. “J-Jungkook,”

“Y/N,” He responds, eyes tracing my clothed figure before meeting mine.

“I’m starving,” I whine, a smile cracking through my lust.

Jungkook laughs, doubles over laughing hysterically. “I’m sorry, yes, I’ll shower quick, yeah? Ten minutes? Do you know where you want to go?”

“Yeah, I know a place,” I tell him. “Let me brush my teeth and get you what you need to shower.”

“Perfect,” He’s still recovering, the dulcet ring of his laugh hitting me straight in the heart.

“On a constructive note?” I stop at the door to my bedroom, pausing.

“Hmm?”

“I slept really well too, and that’s not normal… But I’m not sure, in this moment, if normal is ever anything I have ever wanted?” I tilt my head to the side, feeling my pulse quicken.

“It’s overrated,” He nods, his voice mimicking mine, cautiously fielding the hidden meaning in my words.

“Yeah, totally,” I nod.

I am positive I have said too much, what guy wants to hear their supposed one-night stand say that they slept better with the other person there? We didn’t even have sex! He’s going to think I’m clingy, oh god, that’s the worst. He’s going to think I’m clingy and then when he discovers that I am actually a relationship-phobic asshole, who can barely hang onto the relationships with her blood relatives, not to mention the fraying connections between friends, a romantic relationship is impossible.

But what if he’s different? Oh, _hope_ , you fickle bitch. What if he’s considerate and thoughtful and listens when I rant and is okay that I own a gun? What if he likes the way I cling to him in my sleep, or how I brush my teeth a minimum of 2.5 minutes, often 3, morning and night, and never skip flossing? Will he like my cooking? Or how I sing to every single song that plays through my speakers, and listen to the same ones over and over until they’ve become a part of my psyche?

You cannot tell me Taylor Swift didn’t write _Out of the Woods_ about me.

Maybe he’ll be all of these things… or none of them… maybe this isn’t the start of something new, as Zac Efron would say, but just… a moment? 

~~~~~

That evening, after Jungkook has left, I venture to my favorite grocery store. Not only do I not have anything for breakfast, but there is nothing to make any semblance of a meal, let alone alcohol to wash it down with. I don’t hate cooking. But I hate cooking, in the way that most millennials do. The prep, the planning, the shopping, the chopping, then the actual cooking and cleaning? Why is it so difficult? Why so many steps? Why does it matter if I use oil or butter in the bottom of a pan? How come my banana bread turns out soggy in the middle if I use a square pan instead of a rectangle? Why is it a science?

I digress. The point is, I’m going to the store. AirPod in one ear, podcast playing at a low roar, list in my phone, I grab a mini cart and head straight for produce. Why I go to produce first when I always bruise what I put in first, I do not know. Some deep masochistic tendencies within me. Nevertheless, I walk towards the oranges, trying not to laugh uproariously at the joke being told and grab a bag of Cuties. Gathering a variety of items that will soon be left to rot in my fridge, I stop dead in my tracks. Standing in front of me, a sight I have been searching for, well, my search has truly just begun, but still, in his full glory, reaching for Braeburn apples, a bold and incorrect choice, he stands. 

“Kim Seokjin,” I whisper, eyes narrowing on him. He’s unbelievably handsome, pouty lips, dark eyes and a baseball cap protecting his face from the harsh lights of the grocery store. A cream t-shirt covered by a black bomber jacket with a wide collar, he’s a sight to behold. I don’t know what to do. I have none of my PI tools, but then again, I have a cell phone. I quickly switch to camera and try to covertly take a few photos of him before he’s turning around and walking away from me. Tossing a few items into my cart, I follow, but he’s gone. Not in the chips aisle or frozen section, nowhere to be found in the bakery, in the millisecond it took me to blink, he’s disappeared.

Making my way out to my car, I find a note sitting on my seat. Freezing, I inspect my surroundings. No shattered glass, no misplaced seats, no smudges or fingerprints on the door handle. I feel the taste of bile in the back of my throat before I realize the sensation overcoming me, and as if in slow motion, I turn my head and vomit. Fear does crazy things to you, and it’s been a while since I’ve been this scared. Trembling hands and shaky breath, I reach for the handle to the backseat, _locked_. I check the driver’s door, a cold sweat soaking through my sweatshirt, _locked_.

Who the fuck broke into my car and locked it on the way out?

I quickly place the groceries in the backseat and grabbing a pair of gloves from the extra box I keep, daintily pick up the envelope. Opening it, a single piece of paper is folded in thirds.

“ _Stop looking, Y/N_ ,” I read. I read it again, turning it over and over.

 _Stop looking_? Looking for who? For what? I’m always fucking looking, don’t tell me to stop and not be specific about it. Tilting the paper, catching the evening light, I see a watermark, two trapezoids meeting at their shortest, parallel side before branching out. Who is classy enough to stalk me, leave a note in my car, and have a watermark on what feels like silk cardstock? This is not normal, not even for the highest-level criminal.

My phone rings, and the jolt of fear cascades through me again.

“Hello?”

“Hey – I found that guy you’re looking for,” C says.

“I thought you said you weren’t looking,”

“I wasn’t, at work,” The condescension is clear in her tone.

Exhaling, I ask, “What did you find?”

“He’s in the area, he dated some heiress to a huge conglomerate, but other than that, he’s pretty low key. Works a day job in an office doing accounting,”

“Who was the heiress?”

“It doesn’t say, literally anywhere, whoever it was scrubbed the web clean of it,” C takes a sip of what I’m guessing is Merlot.

“Is there anything unusual about his profile?” I question.

“No, he pays his taxes, never had a ticket, lives a pretty average life,”

“Okay, okay, can you send me the –

“You know the deal,” C reminds me. Ah yes, the “I’ll tell you what you want to know, but no paper copies or digital trail” deal, an unspoken agreement.

“Fine. Tell me this, what’s the mile radius of where he lives?”

“I’m surprised you haven’t run into him before. He seems to operate around where you live,” C tells me. “Look, I gotta go, that was my one good deed for the year. Don’t call me, I’ll call you,”

“Sure, love you,” I say.

“Love you more,” She responds before hanging up.

If he frequents the mile around my apartment, that greatly increases the likelihood of me running into him again. Realizing I haven’t put the cart back, I exit my car, careful not to step in the pool of vomit, and start to wheel the cart to its resting place.

I, very kindly, push it through another cart and as I turn to leave, find myself nose-to-chest with a baseball cap wearing, broad shouldered, pouty lipped stunner.

“Sorry,” He says, eyeing me. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

“I’m sorry, I truly wasn’t paying attention either,” I tell him, shaking my head in faux embarrassment.

“Are you okay? You look a little, sick,” Seokjin worries.

“Oh yeah, totally, just a little … evening sickness,” I lie.

“I don’t know if I’ve ever heard of that,” He smiles politely.

“Yeah, sometimes I just you know, get sick,” I say, trying to buy time. This is easily the worst conversation I’ve ever had, and I once asked an A-Lister if he could take a photo of me and his wife… at an award show, where he was nominated.

“Hmm,” He nods, “Well, have a good night.” Seokjin turns and walks back to his car. Hastily moving into mine, I wait with bated breath for him to pull out before I start to follow him, sugar free tropical popsicles be damned.


	11. Tailing Taehyung

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She finds Taehyung at the local dog park, an unfamiliar face by his side.

##  **_Tailing Taehyung_ **

**_Present Day_ **

I’ll be honest, this is my favorite part of the job. Music low, tinted windows, unmarked baseball cap adorning my head, GPS tracking my every move so I can retrace my steps. I’ve already downed a grande latte, two bagels and a family sized bag of sour skittles. But it’s the quiet waiting, the planning of every move, the sleuthing and interpreting, anticipating another person’s every move.

Kim Seokjin is predictable. He gets up, goes to work, comes home. There’s no romantic partner, no gym time, nothing. His office building, non-descript, standard skyscraper. It’s painful how predictable he is. Which is why after three days, I begin to search for another name on Euna’s list. Kim Taehyung.

He’s easier to track, beloved librarian, he works at the downtown branch where he packs the house for his weekly story hour. Costumes, characters, voices, he commands the room, never demanding adoration because it’s so freely given. His name at the Library, though, is not Kim Taehyung, but Jung Taehyung, as if he got married and changed his name without telling anyone. My only indication that they’re the same person are photos from Euna.

Tailing Taehyung is _thrilling_. He’s going to book launches, gallery openings, museum exhibits, clubbing, and on a few nights, stays late to close the library. Those are my favorite, he puts headphones on and dances around the library, re-shelving children’s books and shaking his ass. He lives across town from Seokjin, in a quaint house with a green door. He seems to have an abundance of friends, rarely goes out with the same people twice in one week. No partner on record, no flirting or taking someone home with him. He does have a dog, something he must’ve picked up after leaving the Lee’s.

Picking up Johnson from my sister’s house, I park near the dog park by Taehyung’s house, a frequent weekend spot. He might go to different clubs every Thursday or try a new restaurant with a pair of gentlemen, but he goes to the same dog park on both Saturday and Sunday, then to the coffee shop on the corner, where he tries a new drink on Saturday. If he likes the drink, he gets it again on Sunday, but if he hates it, he picks something new. He never orders coffee, only tea and juice concoctions. How he exists, with all that energy, and no coffee, I will never understand.

Another thing I will never understand is Johnson. A golden doodle with a slight limp, she’s both deeply loving and simultaneously polarizing. She runs hot and cold, licking you one minute, growling the next. There’s no reason for her split personality, her ability to turn on a dime, but I’d like to think Johnson is struggling with her identity and would really benefit from therapy. At two years old, still fully a puppy, she has gone to obedience school three times, and is only truly unkept when forced to be with humans for too long. The dog park is her happy place. She loves running around, sniffing everything, frolicking in the grass, no leash, totally free.

What a blessing to borrow my sisters fur baby to ensnare Kim Taehyung.

Maisy pulls me towards the dog park, excitement coursing through her body. It takes everything in me to not drop the leash and let her go, but she has a high chance of running into traffic and her death cannot be on my conscience. Within moments of stepping into the park, I spot Taehyung and his little pup. A black and gold Pomeranian, he weighs the same as Johnson’s front paws. Taehyung stands, sunglasses on, black hair parted slightly to reveal his honeyed forehead. He looks too cool for school, and I’d believe he was, if he wasn’t laughing energetically at the man to his right. The man is familiar, one of the usual men he tries a new restaurant with every Tuesday.

Setting Maisy free, I move around the park, monitoring her, hoping she’ll land exactly where I want her to.

The initial contact with a mark, or suspect, is the most precarious. I can’t come on too strong, can’t give too much away or seem too eager. I have to have every moment planned in order to get the information I need. In this case, it’s getting close enough that I can speak with Tae to find out what he knows regarding Lee Euna and her family, and maybe see if he’ll drop hints about her manifesto.

I circle the park, my eyes on Johnson and Taehyung, slowly moving closer to the man and his friend.

“Did you catch the end of the game last night?” The other man asks.

“No, was I supposed to?” Taehyung responds.

“It’s too early in the season to be calling it, but they’ve got a chance to go to the Superbowl,”

“Huh,”

“Excuse me, sorry to interrupt,” I say, turning my body to face them. “Is that your dog? The little one?”

“Yeah, it is,” Taehyung answers, smiling lightly at me.

“It’s so cute, what’s its name?”

“Yeontan, or Tannie,”

“Adorable, is that Korean?” I ask.

“Yes,”

“Very cool, my boyfriend’s Korean,” I lie. Jungkook isn’t my boyfriend. He’s just a guy I’ve slept with once and fallen asleep next to twice … or whatever.

“Nice, I wonder if we know him,” Taehyung said. “What’s his last name?”

“Jeon,” I tell them. I clock the miniscule movement in their brows, the exchanged glance, but I don’t know what it means.

“Not too many of those, what’s his first name?” The man next to Taehyung asks.

“Jungkook” I tell them. My eyes don’t leave their faces as they both nod, neither daring to share a glance.

“I don’t think I know him,” Taehyung says.

“Well, what are your names? I can ask him if maybe he knows you?” I offer. Take the bait, take the bait.

“I’m Taehyung, this is Jimin,” He says.

“Y/N,” I offer my hand to shake, which they each accept.

This is my moment, “This is going to sound crazy, but do you know Lee Euna?”

“Who?” Jimin asks.

I scrutinize his features, no slight quiver of the upper lip, no pupils dilating, no quickened breath. “Lee Euna, she’s part of the family that owns _Lee Enterprises_?”

“Oh, _Lee Enterprises_ , I’ve heard of them, they’re brokers?” Jimin asks.

“Traders,” Taehyung responds.

“Candlestick makers,” I finish the rhyme, both men look at me quizzically, then laugh. “They do banking and stock trading for the top 0.01% of society, royals, billionaires, human traffickers, etc.”

“Ah,” Jimin nods. “Not my area of expertise.”

Agreeing, Taehyung nods, “Mine either,”

“Same,” I add. Maisy runs up to me and begins growling at the men I’m standing with. “Johnson Maisy Lou, knock it off,”

“Johnson Maisy Lou?” Taehyung laughs.

“I didn’t name her,” I shrug.

“Her?” Jimin continues laughing. He’s like, really pretty.

“Yeah, my sister’s dog. She gives no shits when it comes to gender norms. Johnson was a bet she lost though,” I inform them. I reattach Maisy’s leash and give her a good once over. “You ready?”

She wags her tail in response.

“It was nice to meet you guys, maybe I’ll see you next weekend?” I smile again, friendly and kind to a flaw.

“Yeah, bring your boyfriend, we might have some friends in common,” Jimin smiles again.

I wave before dragging Maisy back to the trail and slowly to the car. They know Jungkook, I don’t know how, or why, but something in their reaction tells me that they are more than just friendly with him. Maybe they went to school together? Or worked together before their respective positions at the library and whatever Jimin does? That would answer few questions but makes me feel uneasy.

When I return to my car, I’m met with a familiar sight. An envelope resting on my driver’s seat. Car locked, windows intact, it sits, waiting. My blood runs cold, chills down my spine as I stare. I swallow the bile in the back of my throat and survey my surroundings.

“ _The first was a warning shot. This is your last chance. Stop. Looking._ ”

I panic, glancing all around me, trying to find someone who stands out in the weekend shuffle. There’s no absurdly dressed person, no one in a weird hat or harboring a long-range camera, no one glancing at me in my sheer panic, fear pushing my fight or flight into overdrive.

Choosing a stance somewhere between fear and power, I walk swiftly towards the coffee shop. Ordering a concoction I’ve heard Taehyung order, I ask the cashier a leading question.

“That’ll be $3.57,” He smiles. I glance at his nametag, Robert.

“Thanks, Robert. Can I ask you something?”

“Of course!” He answers.

“You see that black car?” I point towards the general direction of my vehicle. “Have you seen anyone approach it in the last hour?”

“No, but I just started my shift twenty minutes ago,” Robert informs me.

“Okay, thanks,” I move out of the way and watch as other customers flit through the shop, the open concept rustic café is a hot spot, known for their tea infusions and gluten free pastries, it’s a hot ticket. The line is often out the door, and everyone who works here receives massive tips. I don’t know who gives their spare change, but I’ve seen the jar completely full on more than one occasion. Tipping for leaf water is preposterous, but then again, a good cup of leaf water is hard to find. I think, I’ve never really truly looked for it.

After giving myself 30 minutes to calm down, I head back to my car, taking the note and slipping it into an evidence bag. I drive the 15 to my sisters, knocking aggressively as I am positive Maisy is one bark away from biting me.

“Did you have to bring her back?” C asks, opening the door.

“I don’t want to be arrested for dog-abuse, that’s a serious crime,” I hand her Maisy’s leash, and she obediently retreats into the house, running towards her food bowl.

“Oh, I’ll stick the ASPCA on you for sure. How was she?” C asks, stepping back to allow me into the house.

I sigh, “Useful, did exactly what I needed her to.”

“That might be the first time in her life she’s listened to directions,” C laughs. “Water?”

“And probably the last, isn’t that right Johnson Maisy?” I ruffle behind her ears and take the can of Bubly from my sister.

“How’s your little man friend?” She asks, hope in her eyes.

“He’s not little, and he’s not a friend,” I correct her.

“Right, right, how’s lover boy?”

“Don’t call him that,” I squeeze my eyes closed, knowing full well where she’s headed.

“Oh, _baby_ , how’s baby?” She does her best Jennifer Grey impression.

“You’re the worst. And he’s fine,”

“Have you been seeing him regularly? What’s his name again? _JK_? Did his parents just really like _New York Undercover_? Or I’m sorry, the _Killing Joke_?” C laughs at her own jokes, which makes me hate her cleverness even more.

“Jungkook, and yes you can call him JK,” I sip on the pineapple flavored sparkling H2O.

“And?”

“He’s great, he’s wonderful, he’s sexy and intelligent and thoughtful and kind and I could swim in his Bambi eyes forever, okay?”

She laughs at my tone, frustration evident as I blush profusely.

“You like him,” She sings. 

“Too much it seems,” I roll my eyes.

“Are the feelings mutual?”

“He took me to breakfast, after dancing, we didn’t have sex, and then, he took me to dinner and a movie the next day, a ‘traditional date’ as he called it. It’s been a month? Not even, and I think about him _constantly_. I want to see him every second of everyday and I feel so sad when he’s gone. I’m literally handing him my heart to break and I think, all signs are pointing to him handing me his,” I bury my face in my hands, feeling the heat radiate onto my palms. Why is this so embarrassing?

“Are you going to take it?” C asks.

“Haven’t I already?”

C lets it hang I the air, my willing acceptance of heartache at the hands of this lionhearted man, my willingness to be absolutely gutted by him, and in return, his vulnerability to be tossed out like every other man who has ever dared to get close to me.

“Maybe he’s worthy,” C offers.

Shaking my head, “It’s not about being worthy, I don’t deserve anyone.”

“No, no one deserves anything except basic human rights, food, shelter, education, healthcare… but maybe you’ve found a guy who is actually going to be supportive and challenging, someone who isn’t scared of your callousness and thrives in your ability to love without bounds. Maybe he’s that person for you.” Her stare is knowing, and I hate how correct she could possibly be. I hate that I’m falling so quickly, and I hate that he might be falling too. It’s easier when one person has the upper hand, when a bluff pays off with a win. But if we both fold, then are hearts become collateral, and to whom the pieces go becomes a mystery.

“Can we please stop talking about him?” I request, the tears brimming giving way to my distress.

C smiles softly, her knowing sisterly gaze on my tears. “Absolute. How’s the case going?”

“Fine, I found another guy with Taehyung, they both seem to know Jungkook, but I don’t know how they know him or why they lied about it. Neither mentioned anything that was useful,” I wipe the few tears away and pick up my drink.

“Will you keep digging?” She asks.

“I’m not sure there’s much more to dig. Euna has her list, she knows what they did, she doesn’t want proof that they’re guilty, she just wants to know where she can find them.” I inform her.

“That’s the business you’re in, finding people who don’t want to be found?” C clarifies. She knows better than anyone what I do. Though I function in dark allies and make backroom deals, C follows the letter of the law and works for a branch of the CIA. Doing what, I do not know, but she understands the importance of hiding, and the lengths people will go to, to remain out of sight.

“It’s not my job to protect them, C, if I can find them, anyone can.”

“Why does she want to find them?”

“Revenge is my guess, why she had to come to me when she’s worth billions is beyond my understanding. She could’ve hired anyone, had a mole in the government search, literally anything other than showing up at my broken-down door,”

C pauses, “What if they’re in witness protection? What if she was abusive?”

“They’re not in witness, if they were, they wouldn’t use their real names or live in the same city she does. That and you would’ve found out. And, there are no records of abuse in the system, no restraining orders, nothing.”

“Could they be hiding from her?” C questions.

“In plain sight?” I counter.

She laughs. “Staring Mary McCormack now streaming on _Amazon Prime_.”

“I’m leaving,” I roll my eyes.

“Just, be careful, okay?” She reaches for me, and I enter her embrace. Sister hugs always carry more weight.

“I will be,” I say into her hair.

“Don’t dig a hole bigger than you can fill,” She kisses my cheek gently, her lip gloss sticking to my skin.

“That’s not a saying,” I reply as I wipe the goo from my face.

“Don’t care. Love you,” C stares me down, her words echoing through me.

“Love you, mean it,” I respond, and her shoulders relax.

We haven’t always had the best relationship, the most love, the most respect. She’s anal and controlling, I’m easy going and dare I say, happy? We’ve always been opposites, she loved analytics, statistics, history. I craved action, drama, constant stimulation. We both love puzzles, though hers remain recreational and mine professional. At our core, we’re cut from the same cloth. Mannerisms mimicking the other, eyes of similar shape, looking enough like sisters to never be questioned.

But she’s right.

Am I digging a hole bigger than what I can fill? Has Lee Euna, Euna Lee, set me up to completely fail? Do these men want to remain in hiding, and if so, what’s the level of risk I am putting them at?

Maybe solving the mystery of who the man was with Taehyung will guide me towards an answer.


	12. Codename: Another Shot at Love Pt. 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final part of Suga’s orders are carried out.

##  **_Codename Another Shot at Love Pt. 4_ **

**_Winter After Graduation_ **

December and January passed without much to report. That being said, everything that OT7 had planned went swimmingly, with one singular exception.

The dinner at the Lee estate had sent a wave of insecurity through Euna, which made it easy for Yoongi to feign ignorance when he began, deliberately, to pull away from her.

The first few weeks after dinner were filled with Yoongi convincing Euna that he was going to stay, that he was all in, that he wanted to be with her. She believed him, and by believing him, started the early drafts of their futures together. He hated the deception, the lies he strung together as easily as breathing, the files and documents charting his deception updated daily by Hoseok.

Hoseok had the unpleasant task of transcribing all conversation and interactions between marks and members of OT7, his specialized training and exceptional hearing made his job easy. Yoongi was instructed to record everything, except sex or any hooking up that went down. Being in charge of most of the tech, he wielded his glasses and watch, set to record when they were on his person, set to turn off when they couldn’t detect his body heat. He could manually turn them off, a button on his watch near the band allowed him to with ease. He’d only fucked up once or twice, not recording when Cupid spilled important info, which angered Namjoon to no end. They weren’t amateurs, Yoongi should know better. Regardless, everyday Hobi transcribed the conversations between Yoongi and Cupid, adding more to the list and charts of the lies being told.

“Jun-Seo said that Jimin wanted to send you something, a welcome to the gang, gift,” Euna said over dinner.

Surprised and pouting, Yoongi responded, “A gift?”

“Knowing Jun-Seo and Jimin, it’s probably a Dae-Seong voodoo doll,” Euna shrugged.

“Okay, did they want to drop it off or give it to you?” Yoongi shrugged it off.

“Jimin wants to have dinner, the four of us,” Euna told him, sipping her wine.

Nodding again, Yoongi asked, “How do you feel about that?”

“I would rather not,” Euna said.

“Then we won’t.”

“Isn’t it part of being a family?” She asked, unsure what the protocol of a functioning family was.

“Having dinner? Didn’t we just witness Guadalcanal? You think the troops wanted to hang with the natives after they slaughtered them?” Yoongi scoffed. He hated how docile Cupid was towards her family, always doing what she _thought_ was right, rarely what she wanted.

“Eh, it wasn’t that bad,” Euna responded.

“You’re shitting me,” Yoongi’s eyes were wide. “War is not normal, I mean, besides Iraq and Afghanistan, that’s normal.”

“No, I’m not. We’ve had far worse, that one was honestly, average. At least my mom made it through the entire meal, and no one broke a glass or threw a plate at Dae. They weren’t on their best behavior, but it was better than most meals we share,” Euna informed him.

“That’s _toxic_ , psychotic, that’s fucking horrifying, Euna. You don’t have to put up with that.” Yoongi took her hand in his while she watched her roll her eyes.

“Didn’t you know that, though?” She snapped.

“Know what?”

“The Lee family, and _Lee Enterprises_ , breeds nothing but toxicity and wages psychological warfare on every member of the inner circle. That’s why no one leaves,” Euna’s temper continued to flare throughout the night, sleeping as far from Yoongi as possible, barely acknowledging him as he slipped from her home the next morning.

Arriving at work the next day, Yoongi and the OT7 team spent an additional week tracing the longevity of careers at _Enterprises_ , as well as tracking hirings, firings and workers who just disappeared from records.

“Who’s been there the longest?” Namjoon asked, files scattered across the conference table, writing strewn on the glass between offices. He was growing tired, a sign from the cold he’d acquired running a surveillance mission with their recent acquisition, a trainee ready to be put into the field.

“Not including the Lee family, that would include a somewhat distant Vanderbilt relative, a Henry Claypoole,” Yoongi said.

“Not a Korean?” Seokjin asked.

“No, the Lee’s didn’t rise into prominence until, well, it looks like the late 80s, when they did a market sample and it became apparent that an Asian-American owned company would serve better in the future than another fortune 500 owned by a white family, that and Vietnam had ended and American sentiment towards Asians of all kind was changing,” Namjoon responded.

“Once the Civil Rights Act passed, and the government continued to allow Asians immigrate, opinions were changing.” Yoongi added.

“It wasn’t that long after Vietnam though,” Seokjin was skeptical.

“It didn’t go over well, they hadn’t gone public until the early 2000s, so it balanced out. It was pretty hush-hush until the mid 90s when Claypoole died.” Namjoon pulled up the paperwork, passing it to Jin.

“Still, Vietnam, AIDs, their investors were okay with this?”

“At the heart of the Lee business model, is a relentless grab for power. They were making ins with the wealthiest families in Asia, Europe, UAE, Middle East and South America. There wasn’t a royal family or billionaire who hadn’t put their money in,” Namjoon told the men.

Curious, Seokjin asked, “Before it was Lee Enterprises, what was it called?”

“Claypoole & Lee Enterprises,” Hoseok responded. He’d forged a few older documents with their old insignia and water mark.

“CLE?” Jin had looked at their old stocks, comparing them to other companies when he was in college. They were a fickle company, always hard to pin down or predict.

“Yes,” Hoseok answered again.

“They changed their name?” Jin confirmed.

“It was a complete rebranding to help with their demographics, but it also made sense once Claypoole was six feet under.” Namjoon replied.

“The less American, the better?” Jin clarified.

“Exactly, better for the global image,” Namjoon adjusted his glasses before running a hand through his hair. Dark and quaffed, it fell back into place in gently swoops.

“Claypoole worked in the bank from day one,” Yoongi addressed the three men.

“Claypoole was just a figurehead, the original chairman of the board while Lee and his crew ran the company,” Namjoon said.

“How do their hiring practices measure up?” Hoseok asked, he spent zero time reading and understanding the internal workings of the company unless he has to write in a specific person’s voice.

“They accept applicants in pools, hiring in spring/summer, train in fall, then reevaluate the following spring. Their classes or cohorts are no more than ten people, with a few exceptions based on the market demands and company growth. Some years, specifically at the beginning of the tech boom, they hired fifty people, other years, six. It is fairly unpredictable,” Namjoon passed around another set of documents.

“The most tenured staff has been there for thirty years,” Yoongi said sipping his coffee.

“Yoongi, you haven’t had to sign an NDA?” Hoseok asked.

“No.”

“What about retention?”

“No one talks about retention. It wasn’t in my contract at all, no blind clauses or double language.”

“Has anyone left in the year you’ve been there?”

“Not that I’ve seen. No one talks about contracts or negotiation outside of the speculation of what will happen come May.”

“Their plans for negotiating contracts also vary by years spent, first years going through a level of hell that slowly descends as you work your way up the ladder,” Yoongi informed.

“Why would they want people to stay?” Hoseok asked.

“They’re all complicit? They knowingly are committing felonies, so staying means no one can hold it against them?” Yoongi suggested.

“An entire company of 200 people, all insider trading? All embezzling? That’s inconceivable,” Namjoon was unsure how realistic the possibility was.

“An entire company, minus one,” Jin whispered.

“Yoongi, how is our Cupid doing?” Hoseok smirked.

“She wants to move in,” Yoongi muttered.

“What?” Seokjin yelled.

“Yeah, oh, and her clothes have begun to infiltrate my closet,” Yoongi sipped his iced americano, his own making, a product of the espresso machine he had begged Namjoon to buy. The coffee ice cubes, a stupid idea from a pop-up video, had turned Yoongi’s favorite addiction into a godly experience.

“She wants to move in, with you?” Hoseok was shocked.

“Fuck off,” Snapped Yoongi.

“What else?” Namjoon asked.

“She’s been calling a lot, at random times in the day. She’s got snacks in her apartment for me, like really niche stuff. She bought a thousand-dollar bottle of whiskey for me, bought me a pair of silk pajamas that cost near $550. The worst of it all, and I swear, I swear, she’s developing an impregnation kink.”

Namjoon and Hoseok laughed, doubling over to hold their sides as they became consumed by the idea.

“Seriously?” Hoseok gasped.

“Whatever happened at that dinner has her scared shitless,” Seokjin remained calm, though the shock etched into his ageless features. “She’s never wanted kids.”

“Which is why it’s concerning,” Yoongi said.

“You stopped using condoms?” Namjoon dropped the laughter to stare at Yoongi. “Don’t tell me you stopped using-

Yoongi’s eyes widen, cheeks tinting pink as he blushes. “No, no, that’s how I know she’s developing this, obsession. She very vocally, wants my fucking seed.”

“Does she ask you not to use one?” Hoseok inquired.

“Yeah and tells me I can take it off and I don’t need to because she’s on birth control, which she isn’t.”

“Pull out?” Hoseok suggested.

“Oh yeah, the second least successful method to avoid pregnancy,” Namjoon laughed again.

“You can tell her you don’t want STI’s,” Jin offered.

“She’ll ask if I’m sleeping with other people,” Yoongi had gone through every option, there was no good solution. He pissed off Cupid, or he put himself at risk. Unwanted pregnancy was not how he was going to start off his mid-twenties. Fatherhood was not on the table, especially not with someone he at his core, didn’t love.

“Are you?” Jin wondered.

Rolling his eyes, “When would I have the time?”

“You’ve always been a one partner kind of guy,” Hoseok responded.

Confusion in his eyes, Yoongi tilted his head. “What does that even mean?”

“Just that-

“Yoongi, start distancing yourself, as gradually as possible,” Namjoon redirected.

“Roger that.”

It was a cliché, become a horrible partner to get the other person to break up with you so you didn’t have to. It’s even more of a cliché for the person hoping to be dumped to revert back to their pre-relationship behavior in order to get their partner to dislike them, as much as he didn’t want to admit it, that was exactly what Yoongi did. Frankly, he didn’t have to try very hard, though, to get Euna to be hurt by him.

Introverted in nature, he began by closing himself off to her, cancelling plans, bailing at the last second. He became withholding of sex and general intimacy, being standoffish when she tried to get him to open up, annoyed when she tried to use her wiles against him. He tapped into all the flaws past partners had accused him of and let them run wild.

It was slow at first, building up Cupid’s resentment towards him, for every step away from her he took, she took three more towards him. Her internet searches became solely based on ways to keep Yoongi, entrapment through a hole in the condom, or preying on him after a night of drinking. She lost all sense of what was acceptable, what was normal, and spun out completely. Cupid tried to track his phone, bought burners to call and catfish him, put extra security in place in his corner of Lee Enterprises to ensure she had eyes on him all day. Paranoia and obsession have no place in a healthy, stable relationship, but Yoongi couldn’t fault her for feeling both towards him.

The final straw, on Yoongi’s end, was a confrontation the night following Cupid’s weekly family dinner.

“Why didn’t you come to dinner? Who were you with?” Cupid demanded when she called Yoongi.

“I told you, I have a deadline and Matthew needs the plans before the market opens on Monday,” Yoongi reminded her.

“You’re not at work,” She snapped.

Calmly, Yoongi exhaled, “I’m at my apartment.”

“Why are you lying to me,” It wasn’t a question, but an accusation.

“I’m not lying, Euna, I am at home working,” Yoongi answered.

“Why don’t you ever come to dinner?”

“You said I didn’t have to, after the first one,” Yoongi reminded her.

Cupid scoffed, as if that was a true reason. “Jimin’s there, and recently, Dae’s wife has been making an appearance.”

“I would prefer to not engage with your family unless I have to. It blurs the lines of work and personal –

“But you’re dating me! You’re fucking me, you’re in love with me.” She rattled off, “Why does my family have to be the problem? What’s really going on?”

“What do you mean?” Yoongi was already tired of the conversation.

“You’ve been acting weird for months. You don’t want to sleep with me, you hardly stay over, you’re distant and weird,” Accusation after accusation, Yoongi had made a list himself of what she could potentially throw at him.

“I have been going through a lot, can’t you understand that?”

Scoffing again, Cupid responded. “You’ve been going through a lot? What about me?”

“Euna, I know I’ve been shit, I just-

“You don’t love me anymore, do you?” Bingo.

“What?” Yoongi feigned hurt.

“You’re not denying it,” She snapped.

“Do you really think that?”

“Yes, Yoongi, I do. I think you used me to get into good graces with the company so you can move up the ladder. Now that you’ve got some traction, you fucking don’t care about me or our relationship.”

“That’s crazy! When have I ever shown any sign of wanting to move up the corporate ladder? It wasn’t my idea to fall into bed with you, Euna, your mother set this up,” The angrier he pretended to be, the faster this would be over.

“Why are you acting like this if you’re still in love with me?” She demanded to know.

“I told you, works been chaotic and I –

“If work’s chaotic, why not tell me? I can change that.”

He held in a laugh, “That would be like nepotism but worse.”

“Are you saying this to make me feel better?” She asked, voice softening.

“Euna,” If only she could see him, eyes closed, glasses on his desk, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. He was tired. Tired of Euna, tired of working at this company, tired of lying. He didn’t often burn out on missions, but this had taken him to his edge.

“You don’t want to have sex, you don’t want me in your space, you cancel plans, you never answer my calls. Yoongi, are you cheating on me?”

“What?”

“You are, aren’t you?” She could feel the tears breaking through, the resolve of anger she had disappearing.

Yoongi took a deep breath, knowing she was going to throw up whatever she could until it stuck.

“Euna, stop,” Yoongi sighed.

“Then tell me what’s going on,” She whispered.

He had to say it, he had to otherwise this fight would continue on, resulting in an in person confrontation. “We should break up.”

The silence on the other end was worse than her screaming at him.

“What?” Her voice was still soft, a heartbroken whisper.

“We want really different things, and I don’t know if I can or will ever be able to give you what you need. I’m sorry, Euna, I am,” Yoongi said. He wasn’t a heartbreaker, he loved fiercely and passionately. But Cupid was a mark, plain and simple.

“Fuck you, Yoongi,” She spit.

“I’m sorry, Euna,” He laid on the apology.

“You had my heart,” She sniffled.

“I know,” He sighed.

“And you stomped on it, ran it over with an 18-wheeler, and threw it into a blender. Fuck. You.” Cupid was back to anger, coursing through her like lava down the side of Kilauea.

“I’m sorry,” He repeated.

“I want my stuff back, and I want you to put in your transfer at _Lee Enterprises_ ,” Her voice was fueled by anger and sudden heartache.

“A what?” Yoongi was shocked.

“Transfer, you can’t work under me after this,” She had switched to business mode. There was one thing Yoongi had remained impressed by, and that was Cupid’s ability to put the job over everything else, everyone else, not because she had to, because she wanted to.

“That’s unlawful,” Yoongi warned.

“I don’t care.”

“Euna,” He pleased.

“Transfer, or I will fire you.” An ultimatum, something she never wanted to be faced with.

“You can’t –

“Don’t. Test. Me.”

“Okay, I’ll do it Monday,” Yoongi compromised.

“You can send my stuff back, I don’t want to see you.” Cupid hung up. In her home, she threw her phone against the wall, watching it rebound onto the carpet before she fell to the floor, tears abounding. How many heartbreaks could she withstand? How many tears would fall at the emotions of another man, breaking her spirit? In some deep recesses of her subconscious, Dae-Seong’s words played through without a scratch. Maybe he’d been right.

Yoongi texted OT7, who no doubt had already known through the rapid transcription Hobi was almost certainly completing, or through listening to the fight go down. The receipts would show that Yoongi had followed orders as directed, he completed his mission, his mark had been hit. Hook, line and heartbreak. Looking at the calendar, he laughed darkly. Of course, he would break up with her days before Valentine’s Day.


	13. Codename: The Mochi of it All

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The history Codename Mochi and how his relationship with Codename Arrow came about.

##  **_Codename: The Mochi of it All_ **

_**Winter, Senior Year** _

Jimin joined OT7 in his late teens and was kept away from his hyungs until he had finished his coursework, spent time in the field, and proved his worth. A quick study, deft in the art of reading people and empathizing, Jimin became an essential asset in the realms of surveillance and field work. Everyone was charmed by him immediately, his megawatt smile and friendly demeanor, as if Mary Poppin’s herself had given him spoonsful of sugar every day of his childhood. Jimin loved tracking marks, observing their tendencies, watching for changes in behavior. He could slip into their lives without them noticing to make strangers become friends, lovers, discerning with ease what he needed to do to become their confidant. Having studied with _Codename Cuttlefish_ for over a year, he knew what to say and do. Joining a yoga class? No problem. Hopping into their pottery studio? Easy. Wine tasting in Napa Valley? He knew the most exclusive vineyards. Cooking? Please, he was trained. There wasn’t anything Jimin couldn’t do, which is how he fell into bed with Jun-Seo.

The expectation within OT7 was that you accepted your post, you took your directions and followed through on your work. When it came to dating, relationships of a sexual nature, there was explicit language that if you weren’t comfortable, you didn’t have to. There was nothing so important that the powers at be wanted you to risk your personal comfort and safety for. If Jimin didn’t want to entrap Jun-Seo, he didn’t have to, the plan could be changed, nothing was so definite that it didn’t warrant discussion. Namjoon had taken Jimin aside, walked him through the blueprints ahead of the full team meeting, conferring with him on what he was comfortable doing, and what he wasn’t. The rules for Yoongi applied to Jimin, if he didn’t want to have sex, he didn’t have to, and if he did, he was required to turn off his mic whenever sexual situations arose, as was standard practice. He didn’t have to log any aspects of his sexual relationship with any mark, only if it proved important in the case. With Jun-Seo, it did.

Jimin, ever the professional, always prepared and always 5 minutes late, took it all in stride. It wasn’t difficult for Jun-Seo to fall in love with him, and unlike Yoongi and his quest to rectify all past failings through his relationship with _Cupid_ , Jimin found it easy to be committed to one person, one man, in spite of the deception. After all, _Codename Arrow_ , wanted exactly what _Cupid_ did: to be loved.

If Jimin was excellent at everything, he had perfected loving someone.

Infiltrating Jun-Seo’s life was a manner of timing. Yoongi had been placed in _Lee Enterprises_ while Jimin had already been making the rounds in Jun-Seo’s circles, elusive and enticing, it took three weeks before Jun-Seo had cornered him.

“I can’t get a read on you,” Jun-Seo said, sitting across from Jimin in a dimly lit bar.

Smirking, lips plump and coated in a thin layer of petroleum jelly, Jimin played dumb. “How do you mean?”

“You talk to everyone but me, then you dance with me and flirt with me, but the minute I try and talk to you, poof, you’re gone,” Jun-Seo recited Jimin’s offenses, eliciting a giggle from him.

“Maybe I like it that way,” Jimin responded.

“Maybe, or maybe you’re scared,” He countered.

“Scared of what, a pretty boy in last season’s Balenciaga?” Jimin scoffed, not going so far as saying _As If_ , but implying.

“A pretty boy with enough money to bury your deepest secrets or sell them to the highest bidder just for fun,” Jun-Seo threatened.

“Your threats mean nothing. I don’t care about your money. I guarantee I have more,” Jimin brought his glass to his lips, water in vodka glass with a paper-thin lime slice deftly floating on top.

Cackling, Jun-Seo responded, “Lies,”

“You wanna play?” Jimin countered.

“Only if you’re the prize,” Jun-Seo winked.

It was banter back and forth, texts becoming phone calls that led to dates and nights out. A trip to Paris, followed by Seoul and Australia, all the while _Suga_ was swindling _Cupid_. By the time _Suga_ and _Cupid_ broke up, Jun-Seo had proposed to Jimin.

Jun-Seo was known for being a serial monogamist, flitting from one short term relationship to the other, always trading in the old for what seemed brand new. He had a reputation to maintain, an appearance he worked to cultivate. While Dae-Seong and Kwan-Min had to toe the lines of professionalism, of being the faces of the company until Euna was ready, Jun-Seo was given the autonomy to fuck around. A yacht trip in the Mediterranean? Annual. Closing Harrod’s and nearly buying out Chanel and Ferragamo? That was just a Tuesday. He could do no wrong, because while his siblings were busy fighting, he was busy charming. Every relationship, however devoid of emotion it was, provided him with more social capital than any socialite could dream of having. Though the tactics he used to gain this capital were not morally sound, and the level of blackmailable offenses he had witnessed was sociopathic, he continued to be sought after by anyone who breathed. To date Jun-Seo, no matter how brief, was to move up several rungs in society. The longer you dated, the higher you could climb, though Seo had the final say in your destination.

No one was off limits to him, and he was afraid of nothing. Money afforded him security. Wealth afforded him an attitude that no one was better than him. Being 4th inline to the Lee fortune afforded him privilege. For these reasons, nobody dared mess with Jun-Seo, and in return, Seo messed with everyone.

For the majority of his life, Seo had just wanted to be seen, to be heard, to be loved. Gossip swam with stories of his escapades, his philanthropy and business prowess made him legendary. He had few friends, but his closest confidant remained Kwan-Min. At the end of the day, however, she would always be his sister. There was no cuddling, no longing stares or passionate touches in the night, there was barely love, mostly respect. Jimin, though, had the potential to become the person Seo went to for everything.

Jimin knew the lines were blurring when Seo took him to Seoul to track down distant relatives, and then fly to Japan to listen to Kyoto while walking the city. It wasn’t in the way Seo spoke to Jimin, but in the touches he gave, the way his eyes softened, how he was kinder to strangers and compassionate when someone messed up. Jimin was changing him, and that terrified Jimin. A mark is a mark, until they’re not.

“He’s in too deep,” Hoseok argued, Jimin sitting at the conference table, going through transcripts of his last few days with Jun-Seo.

“It’s getting to the point where _Arrow_ is clearly, invested. He sees a future with Jimin, a tangible life together,” Yoongi responded, concern in his eyes. He had just started working at _Lee Enterprises_.

“That’s what I’m concerned about,” Namjoon responded.

“Arrow hasn’t given enough information to warrant the intensity of this relationship. It’s high risk, low reward. Better to get out,”

“But we need to think about when Yoongi is dating _Cupid_ , we’ll have two sets of eyes on the inside. Jimin has to infiltrate _Arrow’s_ computer or very minimum, the philanthropy network so they can access the records,” Namjoon reminded them.

“He’s going to propose, right?” Seokjin voiced. “There’s no way, at this rate, that he Arrow hasn’t thought about it.”

“He hasn’t mentioned it, but he does play with my ring finger. It’s almost absentmindedly, and I wouldn’t think much of it except it’s pretty frequent,” Jimin informed them.

“I thought he wasn’t the ‘ _marrying type’_?” Seokjin asked.

“Everyone thinks they aren’t something, and then Jimin shows up and all bets are off,” Yoongi smiled. “He’s _magic_.”

“It’s because he’s so cute,” Hoseok agreed. “His laugh,”

“His smile?” Namjoon continued the list.

“Remember when we were laughing so hard, he told us to stop being funny because –

“He can’t see when he’s laughing!” Hoseok finished, erupting in wall shaking laughter.

“Okay, okay, I get it,” Jimin couldn’t help but giggle at his hyungs. “The question is, what do I do with Arrow?”

“Stay, you have to,” Namjoon’s composure was back. “That’s your order.”

“Do I push off the inevitable?”

“A proposal? Yes,”

“Tell him you aren’t sure you’re ready, or ever want to be married. Give him a real crisis and he’ll spend the next three months trying to figure out where he stands.” Yoongi suggested.

“Has he said that he loves you?” Seokjin inquired.

“Yes,”

“Have you said it back?”

“The question isn’t if Jimin’s said it back,” Yoongi began, “It’s if he means it.”

“Jiminssi, do you mean it?”

“I, no, no,” Jimin shook his head, his quickly lightening pink hair moving with his head. “I don’t love him,”

“You love who he is with you,” Yoongi followed up, “He’s kind, and thoughtful, compassionate, fuck he’s even empathetic.”

“It doesn’t excuse what he’s done, or who he is at his core,” Hoseok reminded him.

“But it does make it infinitely more challenging to not blur the lines between who he really is, and who he is trying to be,” Jimin sat back, uneasiness in his veins. “I have to remember that.”

“Do you need to retrain your brain?” Namjoon offered.

“No, no, I’ll be fine, I can do this.” Jimin nodded.

“Our second to last member to be put into the field is doing well. _Codename V_ , he’s been onboarded and will continue working Yoongi’s job with minimal fieldwork until _Cupid_ and _Suga’s_ relationship is over, he’s finishing his last bits of training before becoming a full-time member. His office will be next to Yoongi’s,” Namjoon pulled up the file, _V’s_ photo and information enlarging on the screen.

“Chim, you also trained him, correct?” Seokjin asked.

“Yeah, he picked up everything on the first go, insanely intelligent, charismatic, he’s an amazing guy.” Jimin smiled fondly. “He’s my best friend, has been since we joined. Yoongi trained him for a bit too.” 

“His first year in, he was in my year four training. _V_ stayed in the program to train others and work with the last member of our team-

“Because it’s impossible to be _OT7_ when there’s six of us,” Seokjin joked, the fact that they weren’t a complete set had bugged him for over two years.

“ _V_ is the best,” Jimin finished.

“We’ve all worked with him, why are we acting like we didn’t hand pick him?” Hoseok wondered.

“Fair,”

“I don’t know him as well as you do,” Seokjin said.

“Are you still the new kid card?” Hoseok guffawed.

“I’m just saying you went to training, the most I got was a month crash course,”

“You didn’t need additional training. You had freely chosen a path that you loved and are passionate about. It was a choice. We were preyed upon, selected for a _Hunger Game’s_ like war and we’re District 1.” Yoongi informed him. “It was fucking brutal. They took us from our lives, our families, our friends. This newbie? _Codename Golden Maknae_ , was taken when he was 13! Barely old enough to make decisions for himself. He’s been raised in this system, conditioned to work for the betterment of the world, he knows nothing else. We know nothing else!”

“He worships the ground Namjoon-hyung walks on, he is best friends with _V_ because once you’ve been tapped, you can only rely on each other,” Hoseok said.

“It hasn’t been a bad life,” Namjoon, ever the diplomat, interjected.

“Sure Joon, sure. I shouldn’t have been a trained sharpshooter by 19,” Yoongi snapped. They could see it in his eyes, the darkness. Yoongi’s temper flared when he was truly angry, but largely held off until he was a perfect storm of exhausted, anxious and overwhelmed. Or, when competitiveness struck, and he became determined to win. This anger, rarer than the others, struck when he felt defenseless, used, when the job started to take parts of his soul instead of his brain.

“You were hacking into government systems across the globe by 15!” Jimin refuted.

“Allegedly!” Namjoon, Hoseok and Seokjin all yelled in unison. The three looked at each other before bursting into a fit of giggles, leaving Yoongi fuming.

“The point is, you got to live a normal life, go to university, stumble into a relationship out of mutual attraction. You’ve had all the things weren’t afforded. For Jimin, _V, Golden Maknae_ , this has been their life, so be fucking grateful, _Mr. Handsome_.” Spitting the codename at Seokjin, Yoongi stood violently and shoved his chair in against the table. The men stared after him as he grabbed his coat from his office and left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (oooo Jimin's in!)


	14. Justifying Jimin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lee Euna returns to identify a mystery man and put another name on the list.

##  **_Justifying Jimin_ **

**_Present Day_ **

The light is a speckled mess as it attempts to stream through the stained-glass windows arched above the rattling glass below. The warping wood welcomes the reprieve from winter, early spring seeping in through the pollen in the air. I’ve been working with Lee Euna since around Christmas and she continues to pay far more than is necessary. I’m not complaining, upgraded computer, new camera, better security, I can now afford HBO Max and Hulu and Netflix at once. It’s wonderful, no scraping by. My savings account has even been growing, something I didn’t think would happen until I at least solved my first murder. Catching cheating spouses is lucrative, but not enough that I can afford rent in two places.

The point being, bless Lee Euna and her money. I sleep just fine with it in my bank account. Though I’ve yet to determine if I’m sleeping fine because Jungkook’s holding me, pulling me into his orbit, securely protecting me from my deepest fears, or because I’m no longer stressed about making ends meet. Having him around… it’s stupid. It’s, I’m trying to work on valuing my feelings, all of them, and while I find romance stupid, it’s so comforting sleeping next to someone you care about. The way his lips slightly part, the soft curl of his breath, his hair cascading over his cheek, an arm always wrapped around me, or his hand holding mine.

I don’t know what I thought it would be like, having someone consistently in my bed, looking out for me, caring when I let the cucumber turn to mush inside my refrigerator, asking if I’ve drunk all my water for a day or encouraging me to go to bed before 11PM. It’s an odd thing, falling in love with someone. I am, _falling_ , I think, not that I’ve said as much. There’s a certain amount of pride, in keeping your growing feelings of adoration to yourself, of sorting them before sharing them, nurturing them in silence. I do hate how integral he’s become in my life… It hasn’t been long, but in the pit of my stomach, all I can feel is a growing blossom of hope, waiting to bloom.

It’s an odd thing, knowing Jungkook is lying to me about something, and not being able to confront him about it. Sitting in my office, patiently waiting for Lee Euna, I’m staring at a list of facts I’ve written down.

Taehyung and the mystery man know Jungkook, now I don’t know how they know him, or why, or if they’re old school friends or poker acquaintances. Jungkook doesn’t play poker, so maybe basketball buddies. Or lost friends from childhood, bonding over their heritage and shared experiences of hating their 4th grade teacher. The important fact is that they recognized him by name. The look they exchanged, the way their bodies shifted, it would be wild to have behaved that way and not know _of_ Jungkook. There’s no possible way they could’ve been thinking of a different Jeon Jungkook.

All these ‘ _facts’_ , lead me to a central question that I don’t know how I feel about, or what I’m going to do about, but it still remains: _who is Jungkook?_

“Ms. Y/N, good afternoon,” Euna says walking through the door of my office. I glance at her and smile.

“Good afternoon, can I get you anything to drink?”

“Mm, do you still have that water I like?” She sits down, crossing her ankle behind the other and waits.

“Yes, I do, Pellegrino, lemon or regular?” I offer.

“Lemon please,” She responds, she only ever drinks lemon.

“Here,” I hand her the bottle and watch as she patiently opens it, letting the few bubbles escape before placing her lips to the top. “I have good news, and bad news.”

“Oh? Let’s start with the bad,” She’s curious, her brow lightly furrowing, concern in her eyes as they move across my desk looking for a sign of what’s to come.

“I’ve found a few men who seems to know Taehyung. The problem, is that I don’t know who they are.” I tell her plainly.

“Oh, that is a problem,” She sits back in her chair, brows creasing deeper.

“I have photos and am trying to run it through the system,” I tell her, “But, I don’t know if I’ll find anything. It was almost impossible to track down Seokjin, and I had to call in a favor just to get any intel.”

“Can I see them?” Euna sets her drink down on the end table and leans forward. “Maybe it’s someone I know? That will make less work for you, right?”

“Well, that leads me to my next bit of news,” I inform her.

“The good news?” She isn’t hopeful, I can tell from her tone. She should be hopeful, I mean, I’ve done a decent job in not a lot of time.

“Yes, I found Seokjin and Taehyung,” I turn on the extra monitor and the photos appear for her to look at, hoping she can make sense of the mystery men. I prefer to use digital photos instead of the standard print, less chance of blackmail on the part of the perpetrator. It also provides additional income when someone comes back a year, or a few months later to get prints for their lawyers.

In this moment, however, Euna isn’t nodding in contentment at my amazing photography skills, she’s in shock, mouth open, eyes wide.

“Jimin,” She whispers.

“Yeah! Is he the Jimin on your list?” I ask, confused.

“He’s my brother’s fiancé,” She whispers, eyes scanning the photos of Taehyung and Jimin.

“Is or was?” I push.

“How do they know each other?” She asks instead.

“I don’t know,” I tell her, lying in this business gets you nowhere, fast.

Picking up another photo to compare, “How much will it cost to find out?”

“I don’t know, it’ll take more time for sure, maybe another month or two. I’m still putting out feelers for Min Yoongi,” I inform her. “Then there’s the question of how all of them are connected, if they are. I have a slight lead on Jung Hoseok, he’s been out with Taehyung once or twice, and I guess, until today, not much on Park Jimin. There’s one other man that Taehyung goes to dinner with, but I don’t know who he is.”

“Yoongi will be easy to find, though, right?” She asks me.

“I would assume so, but I had to call in a favor to find Seokjin,” I reiterate.

“Jimin was with Tae?”

“What happened between your brother and Jimin?” I redirect.

“He, they, fuck,” She swears, slamming her hand on her the table before turning her back to me and pacing the width of my office. “They were engaged and on the night of their engagement party, Jimin disappeared. No note, no call, nothing. Changed his cell number too. Wiped his social media. Jun-Seo couldn’t find him at his job, couldn’t locate him through his parents. Their friends didn’t know where he was.” Euna sits, taking a long swig from her Pellegrino. “It was as if he never really existed, Seo felt like he’d been in some dream that he’d magically woken up from to realize his life was a nightmare. He didn’t sleep for weeks, went on benders, became Dae’s henchman.”

“Wasn’t he already?” I question.

“Yes, but he was at his beck and call, for, what, six months or something? He’s started returning to his old self, but he’s never going to get over Jimin.” Euna takes another sip, hiccupping gently before screwing the cap back on.

“Does Seo want revenge?” I ask.

“Is it your job to know?” Euna snaps.

“No, I guess not,” I shrug.

“Jimin’s in town? For good?” She’s calculating, pupils contracting, irises moving from picture to picture.

Tilting my head, I tell her, “I don’t know about that.” 

She glances up at me, looking me dead on, “Will you find out?”

“Sure, but it’ll cost. Your list keeps growing,” I pull out the handwritten list she’d made me for our first meeting.

“Who’s on it again?”

“Kim Seokjin, Min Yoongi, Jung Hoseok, Park Jimin, Kim Taehyung,” I recite, pretty names for prettier men.

“And that other guy Taehyung hangs out with, I want him too,” Euna absentmindedly flings her hand in the general direction of her original list.

“Okay,” I say, moving the note to jot a few words down on another piece of paper.

“I’ll add an extra, what, two grand to your weekly? Can that move this along?” She’s refitting her sunglasses over her eyes, but I catch the glimmer of tears coating them.

“Yes, it can. I’m going to have to work my –

“Do whatever you have to,” Euna stands, grabbing her purse and pauses to look at the photos again. “When someone breaks your heart, destroys your world, well, wouldn’t you want revenge too?”

Lee Euna leaves, a comment about her returning in two weeks for an update that I acknowledge with an “okay!” to hide how overwhelmed I am. The list is supposed to be getting shorter, not longer, and yet I’m sitting here, a few months in, with more people to find. Granted She just added more money to my fee, real money, tangible, squirrel away for when I’m back to hunting cheaters and abusers, money. But how am I going to find men who clearly and aggressively don’t want to be found? Not to mention the notes in my car, the connection to Jungkook and the very real chance that Euna’s revenge could very well be dangerous.

I pick up my phone and dial the third number I have memorized, though Jungkook’s is slowly becoming #4.

“You’ve ran out of favors, Y/N,” C says, tutting her teeth.

“I’m not calling about a favor, I’m calling because I need advice.” I correct her.

“What?” She’s curious, I can hear it in the lilt she uses for emphasis. Sisterhood allows you to notice those things, a life lived together means she can tell how frustrated I am.

“It’s taking forever to run these pictures through the system. I’ve searched social media, I’ve combed local yearbooks and university graduation lists, and I cannot find these men. Either they’re –

“Either they’re hiding and have scrubbed their existence from the web, or they are using fake names.” C answers, she hates when I call on her lunch break to talk shop, but she always answers.

“How would I know?” I let out a frustrated growl that she chuckles at.

“Isn’t that part of your job?” She snorts.

“No, I know. I ran their names against _Lee Enterprises_ rosters, and a few came back with different last names. _Enterprises_ doesn’t post company photos so all I have to match them with are the names and photos Euna has given me. Which is minimally helpful. Seokjin wasn’t lying, his name was the same, but Taehyung’s isn’t Kim Taehyung at the library, but it’s him,” I explain.

“Someone’s lying, either the men or Euna,” C deduces.

“Could this be bigger than what Euna is asking for?” I ask the question that’s been stuck in my mind for days.

“As in a larger group?”

“Yes, as in a larger play in the works, a government agency, Interpol, Mafia, someone who’s out of my jurisdiction,” I clarify.

“Lol, Interpol is the British Mafia. That’s funny. Truly, it could be, but how would you know?” She inquires.

“We’ve had this conversation before,” I remind her.

“True, but you process best when you speak through your problems,”

“Also true.”

“You’re on the right track, trust yourself, Y/N. Did you figure out if that Jimin was the same-

“It is,” I interrupt.

“What’s his deal?” C inquires.

“Broke her brother’s heart,” I confirm.

“Dae-Seong is gay?” She’s shocked, I roll my eyes.

“Other brother,” I correct her.

She hums. “Oh, he seems fluid? Is that the correct phrasing?”

I snort, “Yeah, we’re all fluid technically,”

“Mmm, speaking of-

“Speaking of, if this was part of something larger, and you knew, would you tell me?” My voice is soft, C doesn’t know about the notes in my car, and she doesn’t need to.

“If I could, if I had any information or anything, I would,” She promises.

“Thank you. Love you, mean it,” I say.

“Love you, mean it,” She answers.

Finding Jimin was just a fluke, a one off, a bit of luck. He was with Taehyung in a genuine friendly engagement. They weren’t expecting me, I wasn’t expecting them. But the rest of these men? Jung Hoseok shows up here and there, nothing recent, no phone number or Facebook page with activity after 2015. Min Yoongi, well, Park Yoongi, shows up on the database, but when I look at the one photo of him, he is not the same man that Euna swears he is. The cherry on top of that is the last man to appear occasionally with Taehyung.

Altogether, that’s six men. I’ve found three, which I guess should make me a glass half full kind of optimist. However, one was pure luck. The other was secrets from my sister and dumb luck, and the third? Child’s play. So, Min Yoongi, Jung Hoseok, and Mystery Man, who are you, and what have you done to Lee Euna?


	15. Codename: Love Reimagined

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Codename V and Codename Cupid begin their courtship, which ends rather quickly when Cupid crosses a line. 
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING: There is conversation regarding rape in this chapter. It does not glamorize, but does give modest details. 
> 
> PLEASE SKIP IF YOU DO NOT WANT TO READ

**Codename: Love Reimagined**

**_Fall, One Year Post Grad_ **

Lee Euna met Kim Taehyung on a Wednesday. Both were attending a gallery opening, Taehyung as a friend of the artist, Euna as an investor. He knew the minute she walked into the gallery, the way her pearls glistened in the carefully planned lighting, her midnight locks curled to delicate tendrils cascading down her back. There were many adjectives to describe Lee Euna, and as a woman nearing the top of the largest company in the world, the one that was most often negated was beautiful. Lee Euna, a stunner, a total package, brilliant, kind, gorgeous. Taehyung could understand the draw to her, her demeanor was congenial, but her eyes were daring. They spoke when her lips didn’t, they saw what others tried to hide, they observed and recorded so that she could strike. To an untrained eye, in combination with the way tabloids depicted her, Euna wasn’t a threat.

But Taehyung knew different.

Armed with the knowledge of her last two relationships, Taehyung approached confidently.

“The use of yellow is a fascinating commentary, don’t you think?” Taehyung asked.

“Mm, I’m more intrigued by the abject use of black as negative space, particularly as it moves throughout the series, blurring ever so slightly with each piece,” Euna told him, eyes trained on the image in front of them.

“Until you get to the end, completely white,” Taehyung finished.

“You know the artist?” She asked him.

“I do, and you?” He smiled brightly at her.

“Let’s just say I have a piece in mind,” She smirked gently.

“I’m Taehyung,”

“Euna,”

“It’s nice to meet you. May I walk with you to the next piece?” Taehyung asked, a gently smile dancing across his lips, the anticipation of understanding _Cupid_ further, of getting to see the sides of her _Codename Suga_ and _Mr. Handsome_ , got to see. It was always exciting, he thought, getting to know a new mark, exploring the dynamics, flirting with the soon to be blurred lines. Ever the extrovert, he thrived when he was taken off surveillance and placed in the field, even when he ran missions on the ground, following marks, urging them in certain directions or to locations, the threat of being caught was high, and he loved it. Standing next to _Cupid_ , waiting patiently for her response, he felt that first inkling of danger, of mystique, of upholding the narrative Namjoon had constructed for him.

“That would be lovely,” _Cupid_ smiled before turning to walk towards the next piece.

~~~~~

Taehyung courted _Cupid_ for the next few weeks, before she took him to dinner and into her bed. From there, it was a blur of museum openings, concerts, gala’s and drinks with friends. From the jump, _Cupid_ was 100% in. She was immediately falling for Taehyung, making plans for their future, and bulldozing boundaries like traffic cones in drivers ed. Tired of being hurt, jaded from heartbreak, _Cupid_ was already swimming in the deep end while he tiptoed in. Getting him to her side, though, proved difficult and frustrating. Taehyung tried to resist, to persistently put up new and more transparent boundaries, but they always seemed like a suggestion to _Cupid_. He allowed it to go on for a few months, until it became alarmingly clear that this was not acceptable, and she was going to move forward without asking him if it was okay.

Taehyung scheduled a meeting with Namjoon, in the privacy of his fully walled office, and sulked in. The nerves at an all-time high, the panic he felt, the sickness in his stomach, the low taste of bile in his throat, loomed large over him.

“Something’s not right,” Taehyung said to Namjoon. He sat opposite his brother on the couch Namjoon kept in his office for late night missions, or nights when he didn’t want to drive home.

“Meaning?” Namjoon asked, confusion laced in his bespectacled eyes.

“I think it’s getting out of hand,” Taehyung sat with his hands in his lap, eyes downcast as the tears began to fall. He’d shown minimal distress throughout their team meetings but was spending less and less free time in the office. A sign, that both Yoongi and Seokjin took to mean he was with Cupid, though transcripts weren’t showing up.

Gently placing a hand on his forearm, Namjoon asked, “Tae, what’s wrong?”

“I can’t do this, with _Cupid_ ,” He whispered.

“What’s happened?” Namjoon asked, unsure where this was going.

“She, she’s trying to get pregnant, Yoongi was right, she’s obsessed with it,” Taehyung inhaled slowly, rickety breaths leaving his quivering lips.

“By you?” Namjoon was confused, it hadn’t been long enough for her to start making these claims, they’d only been seeing each other for a handful of months. Was she deviating from the pattern?

“Yes,” Taehyung let out the sob he’d been trying and failing to hold. Namjoon had seen the man cry, in their years together, he’d seen everyone cry. They’d lost a mark, years ago, and Taehyung had just been a trainee. The man, in touch with his emotions and often lost in thought, took his job seriously, and worked diligently to do his best at all times. This, whatever was happening between _Cupid_ and him, was abnormal.

“Taehyung, what is she doing?” Namjoon’s voice was measured, gentle in tone and volume, deep resonance embracing Taehyung in support, in love, in familiarity, in understanding.

“She’s scraping out condoms, not letting me pull out, and I’ve torn condoms before because there’s holes in them. Holes, Joon, I’ve found them in the wrapper!” Taehyung was shaking, tears still streaming from his emotive eyes.

“Does she think you don’t know?”

“I don’t know. She doesn’t care or she thinks I don’t care, or -

“Is this nonconsensual?” Namjoon asked.

A simple question, a measurement of balance of power, of two adults mutually agreeing on a set activity, of a designated maneuver, of an act, together, one not moving forward without the other, in tandem. _Do you consent to this, or do you not?_

“Absolutely not. She has never asked, nor have I given any form of consent. I have actively tried to stop her, I have actively tried to not engage with her, I have said no and stop. She doesn’t.” The sobs return, shaking his entire body.

Namjoon wrapped an arm around Taehyung and pulled him into his side. Taehyung didn’t need to look at Namjoon to know how incensed he was, how furious he was, how heartbroken and disgusted and devastated, he was. He felt it in the bear like hold he had over him, he heard it in his voice as he spoke again.

“Your mission with Cupid is terminated _immediately_ , get your phone, you will end your relationship right here and now.”

“Will that ruin the plan?” Taehyung whispered.

“What’s the number one rule?” Namjoon countered.

“Our safety, and our emotional and physical health are more important than a mark or mission,” Taehyung didn’t need to think, it was written on his heart, he’d just hoped he’d never have to evoke it.

“Exactly. Do you want to use your time off? I suggest you do, take a few days. Do you need to go back to your therapist, Dr. Aarons?” Namjoon rattled off the necessary measures Taehyung could take, knowing he would force him to rest and ease back into work.

Nodding solemnly, Taehyung’s voice was a whisper. “Yeah, that might be a good place to start. I’m sorry,”

“Sorry for what?” Namjoon shook his head, confusion in his tone.

“For, I don’t know, disappointing the team.” Taehyung glanced up at Joon for the first time.

“Taehyung, when have you ever disappointed the team?” Namjoon’s question was rhetorical. “You are risking yourself for a mission and it’s not worth it. She’s engaging in dangerous, illegal, immoral behavior. You have to look out for your personhood. I am so sorry that she has done this, and that you feel like you need to apologize to me at all. You are not at fault. I am only disappointed that when I noticed you pulling away, I didn’t seek you out to ensure you were okay. I am sorry for not doing _my_ part as _your_ leader.”

Taehyung held Namjoon as they let the words float between them, Taehyung breathing them in as Namjoon’s softened gaze continued to hold him.

“Thank you,” Taehyung whispered.

“Do you want me to accompany you and _Golden Maknae_ when you break up with her?” Namjoon stood up, stretching before sitting down at his desk.

“Can’t I just ghost her?” Taehyung was surprised by the suggestion of doing this in person.

Namjoon looked at him, realizing the suggestion he’d made. “Aren’t you past that point in your relationship?”

“I don’t know, it’s only been four months?” Taehyung stood.

“Four months and she already wants to procreate?” Namjoon was stunned again, nothing about Cupid predicted this. It wasn’t a pattern of behavior, but a hint at one, nothing had come to fruition and he wasn’t going to put another man on _Cupid_ detail ever again.

“You’ve seen my jaw,” Taehyung smirks.

“Text her, don’t call, we know how that went for Yoongi,”

“Can I do it in here?” He asks. 

“Conference room? I need to brief the team,”

“Okay,”

“You don’t have to stay. Once you break up with her, you can go home, Tae. You don’t need to stay for this at all, you aren’t required to,” Namjoon stood from his desk and guided Taehyung out of his office to the conference room.

“I’ll stay,” Tae nodded, using the sleeve of his cardigan to blot his tears.

“You do not to explain to them what happened,” Namjoon informed him.

“I know,” Tae nodded again.

“What’s up?” Hoseok asked sitting down at the conference table. He’d yet to finish his project, recreating a few false documents for Jimin.

“Yeah, we’re having a full meeting at 3PM? Isn’t it almost quitting time?” Yoongi wondered as he twirled in his chair.

“One step closer to Friday,” Seokjin reminded him.

“We have an update on _Codename_ , Hoseok, what did you name _V’s_ mission?” Namjoon said, stuffing his hands in his suit pants.

“ _Love Reimagined_ ,” Answered Hoseok.

“One of your shorter titles,” Yoongi quipped.

“What was Yoongi’s?” Jimin asked.

“ _Codename_ : _Another Shot at Love_ ,” Hoseok was proud of himself, beyond proud. He took great care to name each mission or task, ensuring it was fitting and catchy. He was waiting for their final mission on this case, a chance to reference one of his favorite Netflix Originals.

“And Jimin’s?” Yoongi added.

“The ongoing, _Codename: The Mochi of it All_ ,” Hoseok beamed.

"What was mine?" Seokjin wondered. 

" _Codename: The First Heartbreak_ ," Hoseok couldn't stop smiling. 

“Why must you take the time to give such long names?” Seokjin laughed.

“It’s part of my flair,” Hoseok giggled.

“Alright, _Codename: Love Reimagined_ is hereby closed, finished, completed.” Namjoon said redirecting the men. They all turned to face him, confusion and shock on their faces. This wasn’t the plan.

“Really?” Hoseok asked.

“Why?” Yoongi followed.

“How come?” Seokjin rounded out the men.

“It’s cancelled,” Namjoon’s voice was firm, a means to end the conversation.

“Taehyung, are you okay?” Jimin asked. The two men shared an apartment, and Jimin had noticed on more than one occasion Taehyung retreating into himself. He felt it too, the absence of his best friend, his partner in work and in friendship, no longer wanting to spend time together like they always did. He hadn’t checked in as much as he wanted, his own mission filling his time as the relationship progressed consistently. Jimin spent time twirling his engagement ring on his finger, embarrassed by how much he liked the medal on his skin, the small encrusted diamonds twinkling in the light. 

“No, I’m not okay,” Taehyung could always meet Jimin’s gaze, his hurt brown irises inked with tears told Jimin it was far worse than he realized.

“You don’t have to tell us,” Yoongi said. “But if you do, I guarantee we’ll fuck them up.”   
“Codename Cupid took advantage of me, more than once, in a _sexual manner_ ,” Taehyung pushed the words out of his mouth, the burden leaving his shoulders as he leaned into the comfort of his friends.

“Are you fucking serious?” Yoongi yelled.

“No, no,” Jimin shook his head, the tears already forming.

“Tae,” Jin whispered.

“You, are you, oh my god,” Hoseok couldn’t comprehend the words coming out of Taehyung’s mouth.

“I’m done, cancel my mission,” Jimin declared.

“We can’t cancel your mission,” Namjoon said.

“Why not?” Jimin demanded, eyes on fire.

“What good does that serve us?” Countered Namjoon.

“I, you expect me to date this guy, be engaged to him, when his sister raped one of us? Are you fucking with me?” Jimin yelled again, standing to slam his hands against the table. Taehyung winced, not only at the volume, but because he hadn’t used the word yet, hadn’t thought it applied to what had happened to him… but maybe, it did.

“I expect you to complete your mission as directed unless _Codename Arrow_ is endangering your life,” Namjoon repeated.

“I won’t,” Jimin said.

“You will, you have what, three weeks left?” Namjoon asked.

“The engagement party is December 21,” Jimin said.

“Alright, it’s almost Thanksgiving. You just gotta make it until then,” Yoongi offered, a shrug of his shoulders. In Jimin’s place, he would absolutely end things with _Arrow_ , but they needed the last set of Christmas bonus checks and the final 2020 financial reports, both of which wouldn’t populate on _Arrow_ or _Cupid’s_ computers until mid-December.

“She abused him,” Jimin whispered, the tears falling down his cheeks.

“Jiminie has a point,” Hoseok muttered.

“We cannot let this slide,” Seokjin said. “I never thought, I never thought she’d do this.”

“We will have justice when we bring them down,” Namjoon reminded them, his words hollow in the moment of their pain.

“Do we have evidence of the, of the, fuck, I can’t say it,” Yoongi shook his head, the words stuck on his tongue.

“You don’t have to say it,” Taehyung’s voice was raw, emotions bare. “I’ve documented what I can, bagged things, written a detailed report… I used one of Hobi’s forged Police Reports to document what I knew they’d ask and took pictures to accompany it. The evidence is sealed in my office.”

Lifting his head to look at him, Yoongi asked, “Taehyung, how long have you been sitting on this?”

“Not too long, a couple of weeks,” Taehyung shrugged. It had only happened three times, which is three times too many, and three times it shouldn’t have. He had been shocked the first time, unsure what had truly happened to him. The second time, she used a different tactic, and he knew what it was. The third time caught him off guard, unawares. He was embarrassed that he let it happened, mortified that he put himself in this situation, and angry that he was so mad at himself instead of being outraged, furious, loathing, towards her.

“Tae,” Jimin said again.

“We need to write an official report so we can put this into our official filing,” Namjoon’s voice had simmered, its resolute calm returning.

“Not tonight,” Seokjin said, a reminder that Taehyung was still reeling from the trauma.

“Have you broken up with her?” Yoongi asked Taehyung.

“I texted when we sat down,” Taehyung fished his phone out of his pocket. “She responded.”

“Do you want to read it out loud?” Namjoon questioned.

“Hobi’s just going to send us a memo of it anyway,” Yoongi shrugged, his heart weighing down his entire body. “After this, can we call it a day?”

“Absolutely,” Namjoon agreed. “Taehyung, you want to read it?”

“It says,” He scanned the message, eyebrows shooting towards his hairline, jaw slacking as he reread the message. “She says, she says she’s pregnant.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (next chapter is fluffy promise)


	16. How Cricket Got Her Name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How Cricket and Bunny came to be... or the moment Jungkook and Y/N acknowledge that they're falling in love.

_**How Cricket Got Her Name** _

_**Present Day** _

“Jungkook!” I squeal, his fingers moving aggressively against my sides. “Stop tickling me!”

“I can’t stop, not when you make that little sound,” He’s laughing far too hard for someone who isn’t being subjected to this kind of torture.

It started out innocently, and like the road to hell, paved with good intentions. _Let’s watch the new season of Search Party_ , he suggested. _Let’s share some wine_ , I encouraged. _Let’s make out between episodes and quote Elliot back and forth to each other_. Sure, all fine and good until he brought out his Chantal impression and I found myself in hysterics. Who knew he was this funny? Which resulted in him deciding to tickle me relentlessly, fingers gliding under my top, fingers flush against my heating skin. His giggle, and subsequent laugh, only triggering one coughing spell, which he squelched and resumed giggling at my expense.

“I can’t help it!” My voice reaches another barely audible level. I’m sure the dog living next door is ready to bound in to save me.

“You know what you sound like?” He asks, sitting on his haunches, eyes drifting over my body, tongue licking his bottom lip.

“If you say Mickey Mouse, I will stop dating you,” I say, chest heaving as I catch my breath.

“A cricket,” His smile doesn’t falter as he continues to stare at me.

“A cricket?” I question. My brows furrow, no one’s ever called me a cricket.

“Mm, I’m going to call you Cricket,” Jungkook moves to straddle my hips, eyes on mine.

We’ve been playing this game for a few months or so now, this dance of sleeping together and spending time with one another, promenading around labeling it or really getting into the nitty gritty of who we are as people, as a _couple_. Part of me is lying, the part that knows he somehow is involved with the Lee’s, waiting for him to tell me how or why Taehyung and Jimin recognized his name. Part of me, the part that’s melting under his touch and craving his voice and companionship, doesn’t care. I don’t _know_ what he does, or how he could be connected to them, if he even is. I don’t know what his tattoos stand for or his mother’s name, but I do know his eyes, and despite the obvious minor perceived deception, I like to think I know his heart.

“What am I going to call you?” I ask, tilting my head to the side to change the angle of his immaculate facial features. “Hmm.”

“My mom calls me-

“Don’t tell me, that’s your mom’s nickname, her special word for her lil bunny,” I bop his noise, which he scrunches in response.

“I’m not a bunny,” He shakes his head, long locks moving with the sway of his neck. They’ve gotten longer, bangs in his eyes, just enough to tuck softly behind his ears.

“Your features tell me otherwise,” I reply.

“So that’s it? I’m Bunny?” He can’t believe he’s handed me the perfect nickname on a silver platter.

“I’m Cricket!” I remind him.

“Yeah, you are,” His smile fades as he leans his body over mine, hands resting on either side of my head. I watch the change in his eyes, from adoration to lust, and am positive mine are doing the same. I lick my lips in anticipation, waiting patiently as the tension builds. Jungkook’s good at this, too good.

“I need to ask you something,” He says as his lips move incrementally closer.

“What’s that?” I whisper, breath fanning across his face. I too need to ask him something, but the fear of total rejection is going to prevent me from saying anything.

“Are you my girlfriend?” Jungkook asks, eyes drifting from my lips back to my eyes.

“Do you want me to be?” I question.

“Do you want to be?” He says, lips forming a light pout.

“I asked you first,” I say.

“Technically –

“Jungkook,” I interrupt. “Are you asking me to be your girlfriend?”

“Yes,” He nods.

“Yes,” I repeat.

“You’re all in, not seeing other people, introducing you as my girlfriend, extra toothbrush in your bathroom,” Jungkook inquires.

“Mm, on one condition,” I say, wiggling my hips underneath him.

“What is that Cricket?” He can’t stop smiling at me.

“You gotta tell me what you do for a living,” I say.

Jungkook sits upright and rolls off of me. I stare at the space he once occupied, confusion knitting my brows together. Is the reason he’s having a mild panic attack the fear that he’ll expose himself?

“Bunny?” I ask.

“I don’t know if I can do that,” He says, eyes staring at the empty space in front of him.

“Why not?” I question.

“It’s not up to me,” He replies.

“What the fuck does that mean?” My tone is harsher than I intend, I can see it in the way he clenches his jaw. “I’m sorry, my tone was unnecessary.”

He nods, jaw unclenching. “It means that I want to be your boyfriend, but I can’t tell you what I do.”

“Do you kill people?” I sit up and cross my legs, scooting as close to him as he’ll let me.

“No,” He shakes his head.

“Do you traffic drugs?”

“No,” His voice is growing tired.

“Humans?”

“No,”

“Embezzle?” I run through the gambit of accusations from Lee Euna, has he played a part in these accused schemes?

“Y/N, stop,” Turning his head to look at me, his bunny eyes are hopelessly pleading.

“I’m just trying to assess the risk that being your girlfriend involves. You’re not murdering people or trafficking them, which are completely nonstarters. I don’t see why you can’t be my boyfriend, unless you’ve changed your mind in the last two minutes,” I tell him.

“I don’t know what you do,” Jungkook says. “We haven’t, we’ve been seeing each other for a few months, and I feel like we’ve shared bits and pieces, but not since the first night, you know, we haven’t had _that_ night.”

“The night where we bare our souls and insecurities?” I ask, knowing the exact episode of _Friends_ he’s referencing.

“Yeah, I mean, I know you, I swear I do, I know your heart and who you are. I feel it in my bones, but I couldn’t tell you about your siblings or where you went to college… shouldn’t a boyfriend know?” Jungkook finally turns his body to face mine and tucks his legs underneath him.

“You want to play 20 questions?” I suggest.

“Yeah,” He nods.

“Well, you’ve asked your first question. So, I’ll start. You know I’m a PI. I specialize in finding people that can’t be found. I’m fucking good at it, one of the best in the city, that’s what I do. It’s fucking weird that you can’t tell me what you do, but, BUT, Bunny, Bunny Jungkook, Jungkook Bunny, I’m choosing _you_. So,” I shrug, “tell me, don’t tell me, just don’t lie to me. If you’re doing something dangerous, tell me if you won’t come home. At the very least, you owe me that. If you’re going to risk your life, let me fucking know. Otherwise, I’m not going to force your hand.”

“You won’t go digging?” Jungkook asks.

“That’s question number two – do you trust me?” I snap back.

Jungkook hangs his head, his hand reaching for mine. “Yeah, Cricket, I do,”

“Trust that I won’t, and I’ll trust that you won’t either,” I respond, eyes softening. “There isn’t much to find, except some old Harry Styles fanfiction I wrote that I truly believed was going to get me shortlisted for the National Book Award.”

He’s laughing, the second fanfiction flies out of my mouth, Jungkook is lost in hysterics. I’m not sure what he finds so funny about it, fanfiction is a legit talent, but I’m not going to expose myself as an avid reader when he’s near tears at my expense.

Jungkook takes in my gentle glare and calms himself, inhaling slowly to subdue his giggles.

“I’ll ask,” He’s composed enough to bring his eyes to mine and his fingers woven between mine, “I’ll ask at work if I can tell you.”

“If it’s going to put you in danger, or jeopardize your job, don’t. I don’t want that.” I kiss his palm, then lay my lips on each of his fingers.

“There are so many other parts to me besides my job,” Jungkook replies, eyes closing gently under my touch.

“I want to know all those parts, bunny, all of them,” I pull him to me, his elbows resting on either side of my head.

“What if you don’t like them?” He asks, lips hovering over mine, breath fanning across my face.

“That’s question four. I don’t think you’re going to like all the parts of me,” I tell him, earnestness in my voice, fear in my eyes.

“Nonsense,” He whispers, his head shaking gently, black locks sweeping across my face.

“Nonsense,” I whisper before his lips latch onto mine. It’s lips and tongues and heat as he entraps me in his embrace. There is no slow start, no hiding how quickly we’re falling or how enraptured we are with one another. I can’t speak love directly to his face, but maybe within my embrace, I can make him feel it.

“When’s your birthday?” Jungkook moves from my lips to my jaw, nose trailing the line as he begins to kiss the column of my neck.

“June 16th, you?”

“September 1,” He says.

“You have a brother, right?”

“Yes,” He rolls his hips against mind, grinding into me while his lips suckle my earlobe.

“Older?” I try to hold in the lewd sounds that are fighting to escape my lips.

“Mm, you?”

“Sister, older,” My hands dip under his shirt and push it up, my hands ghosting against his flesh, nimble fingers toying with his sensitive nipples. He moans loudly in my ear before sitting up and tossing his shirt off.

“Ugh,” I groan, “You get sexier literally every day, how?”

“I think they call that love,” He winks before capturing my lips in another kiss.

But my mind, no matter how my body is reacting to his touch, is focused on that four-letter word. If Jungkook says it… does that mean he’s feeling it too? Is he falling in love, like I am? It’s hard to imagine a world in which Jungkook could, does, would even love me. I’m, as my sister says, the worst.

But Jungkook?

He’s the sun and god, do I love basking in his rays.

Can he feel the quickening of my heartbeat, the blush on my cheeks, the flush encapsulating my entire body, the giddiness and safety he brings? I don’t know how to articulate it, the indescribable emotions that are such an integral part of falling in love, because that’s what we’re doing, mutual wanting and desiring, falling deeper and deeper until our lives meld into one union. Tonight, our bodies are pressed together, teeth and tongue and nails, moans and ecstasy. I know Jungkook understands what I’m trying to express, and I understand him.

“Y/N,” Jungkook whispers, his arm pulling me to him, bare flesh against bare flesh.

“Bunny,” I respond. The moon is high, and we’re tucked into the comfort of my bed, contented murmurs before we fall asleep.

“I’m really happy, with us,” He says. His eyes are still closed, a sign of self-preservation and the fact that sleep is just around the corner.

“You are?” I ask.

“Yes, Cricket, I am,” He says again.

“Me too, Bunny. Like, scary happy,” I tell him. My eyes are open, my head on his peck, arm around his waist. I listen to his breathing, steady and even, his heart a rhythm I could write a Song of the Year to.

“Mm, scared?” He asks, voice raspy with almost-sleep.

“Scared that this is too good to be true, you know?” I tell him.

“I know,” He sighs. “That’s why we gotta hold onto it, make sure we protect it and nurture it, so it can grow.”

“So, we can grow?” I ask.

“Yeah, together,” He shifts lightly, grip tightening on my waist.

“Jungkook?” I whisper into the darkness.

“Hmm?” He responds.

“I really, _really_ like you,” I tell him with a soft kiss to his chest.

“I really, _really_ like you too, Cricket,” He answers, mimicking my gesture by kissing my forehead. I stare at him for a few more moments, the slope of his nose, the slight tilt of his eyes, the statuesque angle of his jaw line. The scar on his cheek, the dimple at the end of his nose, the patch he forgot to shave.

“Stop staring at me,” He requests.

“How can you tell?”

“The way you’re laying on my chest, you’re clearly propped, watching me,” Jungkook details. “Go to sleep, aren’t you tired?”

“Yes, but I’m having one of those _‘pinch me, is this real’_ , moments,” I whisper. The hand at my waist pinches the flesh on my bones.

“Ow! Jungkook!” I snap.

“You wanted to make sure you’re not dreaming, are you convinced?” His eyes remained closed, a light smile gracing his bruised lips.

“I was speaking metaphorically,” I roll my eyes.

“Sure, now go to sleep Cricket,” He murmurs, lips pressing again to my forehead.

“Say goodnight Gracie,” I instruct him, my eyes closing as I burrow deeper into his side.

“Goodnight Gracie,” He repeats.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (a lil fluff post Love Reimagined)


	17. Missing Min Yoongi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our lovely P.I. goes on the search for Min Yoongi, and stumbles into the identity of the mystery man with Taehyung.

_**Missing Min Yoongi** _

_Present Day_

My sister always tells me she’s given me all she can, that she can’t help me past my one favor a year. It’s a ploy, a deception, a boldfaced lie she tells at work or anytime we’re in earshot of anyone else. Does she misuse her government clearance? _Yes_. Does she defy laws and challenge the ethical code? _Yes_. Has she ever gotten caught? _No_. You’d think the government would put more tabs on her, considering her sister is a registered and licensed PI, but no, no one seems to bat an eye.

Min Yoongi, Park Yoongi, _Yoongi_ , is nonexistent. I barely understand what he did at _Lee Enterprises_ , let alone how he ended up bedding Euna. He supposedly comes from no money, no name to build off of, nothing. His grades were fine, his college experience came and went with nary a note of youthful rebellion. Now, now that he’s no longer at Enterprises, I cannot fucking find him. Nothing on the web, nothing in the statewide system, nothing in the national system. No death certificates, no marriage licenses, nothing.

All I’ve got are his charges, well, Euna’s charges against him.

Cheating in the 1st degree, no proof, no photos or receipts or basic evidence of his behavior. She had nothing but her recollection of the fight they had, and minimal information on what led to the break up. From her manifesto, it seems that Yoongi was pulling away and she clung to him, claws drawing blood, trying to get him to stay. He didn’t, clearly. With only that to go off of, it’s no wonder I can’t find Min Yoongi, and I’m beginning to think that just maybe, Min Yoongi doesn’t exist. He’s her Snuffleupagus, and I’m starting to not believe.

While I’m unsure if Yoongi exists, I do know a person who does.

The man with Taehyung.

Spectacled and broad shouldered, quaffed hair and arms the size of tree trunks, this man exists. He goes to the gym regularly, religiously, makes his coffee at home, and frequents his local nursery. The man is obsessed with plants, it seems unhealthy. Multiple days a week he’s carrying one, or more, I have photos of him watering them, speaking to them… He tends to them with such care, such love, it’s mesmerizing. He goes to work, some corporation, and once a week meets Taehyung. They’re clearly pals, best friends, brothers. They laugh and eat and enjoy one another. It’s cute, their friendship date. Once in a while, Jimin joins them. The three laugh uproariously and often draw attention for their volume. The unidentified man doesn’t seem to understand how loud he is, his baritone resonating enough for me to hear.

I haven’t intentionally bumped into the three of them, yet, but I’ve stationed myself near enough to hear bits and pieces of their conversations. They never discuss work, only music they’re listening to, books they’re reading, podcasts, plants, general culture. Have I written down a few of the artists and podcasts they listen to? Yes. Do I feel dirty about it? Yes.

But it’s the job, and I tail them for a month before a package arrives. A package with my name on it, waiting outside my apartment door. It’s not addressed, no stamps or packing label. It’s new, not reused as a shipping box or gifted for the umpteenth time, no dingy tape sticking to its brown coating. The box is sitting, like it’s appeared out of thin air. A secure building is only as secure as the tenants make it, and I wouldn’t be surprised if the owner snuck in behind some dummy who didn’t see the harm in letting a potential rapist, stalker, murder, into the building. Taking the package inside, and as my blood continues to cool and chills run down my spine, I delicately open it.

I know, it could be a bomb. However, the only thought calming me down is the knowledge that my life has never once been a Shonda Rhimes production and thus, I’m not really worried this package is a bomb. Frankly, that’s far more sophisticated than any of the people I’ve worked for and gives them too much credit.

Inside, there are copious amounts of surveillance photos and a note, written in a script that I’ve seen before.

_“That was your last warning / The line has been drawn and you’re bleeding / Next time, face to face is how we’ll be meeting”_

Whoever heard of a stalker rhyming?

I bag the evidence to toss under my bed so Jungkook won’t find it and pull out my list of potential threats.

** Check It Once, Check It Twice  **

  * _William Daniels_
    * Cheated on his wife of 5 years with a stewardess who flew almost exclusively on his flights (big shock)
    * Threatened to ban me from American Airlines 
      * Jokes on him, I don’t fly American
    * Photos in the act & audio recordings
    * Wife divorced him immediately
    * He has to pay alimony out the nose
    * Lives in the area
  * _Allanah McMahon_
    * Arrested and tried for insider trading and embezzlement
    * Discovered who I was when I was subpoenaed to testify 
      * My testimony added a few years to her sentence … oops
    * Still in jail
  * _Cassie Harrington_
    * Set up a Multi-Level Marketing scheme
    * Tried to hide out in Hawaii – but changed her Instagram to private after I’d already followed her
    * Ordered to pay back all the money she stole
    * On parole
  * _Adam Gregory_
    * Tried to run an illegal adoption agency for homosexual, non binary couples
    * Lied
    * Paid a fine and on parole – forbidden from creating any LLC’s or Incorporating
  * _Brian Welch_
    * Pissed that I found evidence of his partner cheating but turned him in on charges of possession of child pornography
    * In jail for kiddy porn and for threatening my life
    * His husband got everything despite the infidelity



You acquire quite detailed list of people who want to threaten your life on the daily, but then again, wasn’t it Audre Lorde who said “ _I’m deliberate and afraid of nothing_?” I can’t be afraid. If I’m afraid, they have the power. They have the power to intimidate me, to run my life for me, to make my decisions. I will not back down because they got caught. But I will protect myself, I will keep my license for my gun up and go to the shooting range often. I will strengthen the locks and security of my apartment, and I will ask Jungkook to stay over more, or sleep at his.

I will not back down, not when Lee Euna has paid me what seems like the cost of tuition at Princeton for a year and wants answers. We signed a contract, didn’t we?

And who am I if my word is no longer worth anything?

Instead of harping on the sickening feeling that I’m being watched 24/7, I run through my plans for bumping into Taehyung and his friends. In the weeks that I’ve continued to follow him, he’s solidified Wednesday’s as his night for dinner with friends, and Thursdays as his cultural exploration. He goes to museum openings, concerts, movies, plays, clubs, all on Thursdays. While those nights are fun for me to watch and put on my expense account, it’s Wednesdays that I adore. I love following him from his house to the restaurants and am excited each week to see what he and his friends have chosen.

This week, it’s an authentic Mexican restaurant. Slipping my coat on, I give them a few minutes before following in.

The sound of mariachi welcomes me into the yellow painted restaurant. The furniture, dark mahogany against the vibrant walls, is full of people. I note the variety of sombreros, the different colors and patterns, the meanings hidden within the stitchwork. It’s not a large restaurant, but big enough to fit a few large groups of 7-10 people, and plenty of space for smaller groups such as the three men. The hostess asks if I want to sit at the bar, and I request a table near the men. Sitting a few feet away, I’m able to pick up their conversation easily. Instead of jotting it down, I hit record and let the metaphorical tape play.

“Oh, it wasn’t that bad!” The mystery man says.

“It was awful, Taehyungie couldn’t stop laughing, every time he hit the ball it went flying in the wrong direction,” Jimin says.

“I was trying so hard!” Taehyung laughed.

“That’s the problem, you were trying too hard,” The man tells him. “You’re too pure of heart.”

“I am not,” Taehyung shook his head.

“I know, you’ve experienced a lot, Tae,” Jimin says.

“Joon, here’s the question,” Taehyung says, and I’m momentarily distracted by the utterance of the name, Joon. “You get to pick next week, we heading back to that barbeque place?”

Jimin erupts in another fit of laughter, Taehyung following suit. It’s cute, watching them interact. I wonder if Jungkook has friends he does things like this with… those nights we aren’t together, if he has friends to spend his time with.

I wait until they’ve left to take a glance at the signed bill on their table, Taehyung Kim is scribbled, no evidence of the other men, and I’m about to bag evidence when I hear my name.

“Y/N?” Taehyung asks.

“Taehyung! That was you!” I smile.

“Have you been here the whole time?” Taehyung’s eyebrows express more than anyone’s I’ve ever seen.

“I, yeah. I wasn’t sure it was you and Jimin. I didn’t want to interrupt,” I tell him.

“Oh, you could’ve! Don’t worry about them, we’ve been friends a long time,” Taehyung smiles, it’s boxy and wide, the edges curling as his eyes soften.

I’ve already started my dance, a waltz to an even tempo and I’ve got the next five paces planned. “Who was that new guy?”

“Why, you single?” Taehyung smirks, his lips no longer joyful but devious.

“I just was curious,” I reply, “And no, I’m not single, remember?”

“Oh yes, yes, _Jungkook_ ,” Taehyung recalls with a nod.

“You, Jimin and that other guy, go way back?” I lead him, it’s easy to lead Taehyung, he’s pure of heart, the most honest intentions in his eyes.

“Mm, yes,” He continues smiling at me.

“Your dinner looked fun, I’ll definitely be coming back to this place,” I tell him. It’s true, maybe I will bring Jungkook by one night when I know these three men won’t be around.

“Yeah, we like it. We try a new restaurant every week. It’s a fun no work zone,” His arms are relaxed at his sides, one hand slipping slowly into his pocket, his cardigan open and glasses pressed close to his ebony eyes.

“I like that, no work zone,” I agree, I wish I had one of those.

“Yes, it helps clear the mind,” Taehyung tells me.

“Do the three of you work together?” I inquire.

“Kind of, we have a lot of the same shared interests,” he sidesteps.

I nod, the final step in our dance presenting itself. “Very cool, well I don’t want to keep you from Jimin and –

“Joon, yeah, very considerate of you. Maybe I’ll see you at the dog park again?” He asks.

“Oh god, I hope not, Maisie is a nightmare,” I laugh.

“Well have a good night, Y/N, take care!” He says as he walks out the door. I stand, watching, pretending to not notice how he gets in the car swiftly, not looking back.

Joon.

Joon.

Joon.

What kind of a name is Joon? If Taehyung and Jimin, and Jungkook, and Seokjin… and Yoongi, are all Korean, must _Joon_ be short for something Korean?

Glancing at my phone, it’s only 8:30PM, if I hurry, I can get in another few hours of work before I’m overcome with exhaustion and anxiety. But what will I find?

  * Oh Joon
  * Kim Joon
  * Lee Joon
  * Joon-Ho
  * Joon-Hee
  * Joon-Hyuk
  * Joon-Ki
  * Joon-Tae
  * Joon-Young
  * Byung-Joon
  * Ha-Joon
  * Hee-Joon
  * Hyung-Joon
  * Jae-Joon
  * Kyung-Joon
  * Jae-Joon
  * Kyung-Joon
  * Yong-Joon
  * Nam-Joon
  * Joon-Su
  * Ye-Joon



Not to mention add in the top 5 Korean last names, and I’ve got hundreds of possibilities. Luckily, I can run the name against the address of the apartment building Taehyung picked Joon up from. Being a PI means I have access to the state databases, which gives me names and addresses. In the building, there’s one Joon, a Namjoon, Kim Namjoon. I pull the information before digging into my search.

Unlike the seemingly nonexistence of Min Yoongi, Kim Namjoon is _present_. Every search result yields a perfectly manicured article dating anywhere from the year of his birth to age sixteen, and then, much like everyone else on this case, the trail begins to run cold. Whatever happened to him during high school, still radiates through his file. Whether he’s shaken it or not, that’s the question.

No known career or job at all, his status as a prodigy in math, linguistics and rhetoric is astonishing. One of the highest IQ’s of recent memory, he’d mastered calculus by the time he was 8, besting PhD’s by 13, and then in a blaze of glory, disappearing by 16. He was studied, written about, documented, photographed, and somehow managed to be nominated for a Nobel Prize… how he accomplished all of that during puberty is beyond me. Not only does he accomplish that, but then, disappears completely, without a trace. How?

I’m ready to pack it in when someone steps into my office.

“I saw the light on,” She says.

“Ms. Lee, what do I owe this surprise visit?” I ask. This is the exact opposite of what I wanted to do tonight.

“I wanted to, to talk to you,” She takes a few steps forward, pausing to ask for unspoken permission.

“Please, sit. What did you want to talk to me about?” I lean back, hoping she can’t see the bags forming under my eyes or the tears from the yawn I’m stifling.

“I wanted to tell you about, about why I need you to find Min Yoongi,” Euna informs me. She’s dressed in what can only be described as winter white, and only as a cashmere sweatsuit. Never have I ever seen such glamor in my dingy office. I feel bad that she’s risking the integrity of her outfit by being here.

“Oh, okay,” I sit up and reach for a notebook. “Do you want me to write this down?”

“No, you don’t need to. We can just talk between women, between friends,” Euna’s voice is soft. The slack in her jaw, the demur manner in which her hands are placed on her lap, it’s evident she doesn’t know how to be girlfriends. Raised by her family, groomed to take over, _friends_ was never a word in her vocabulary.

“I wanted you to know that I really saw a future with Yoongi,” She starts. “You know that place in your heart where you hold all your hopes?”

“Yes,” I say hesitantly.

Her eyes narrow in warning, “Do you have someone, someone who’s beginning to fill that space?”

“Um, yeah,” I reply.

“I thought that’s what Yoongi was. I thought we were, we were building something. Jun-Seo had Jimin, they thought they were building an illustrious future together, but one day he disappeared too.” She pinches the slight bridge of her nose, inhaling slowly to steady her nerves. “I don’t know what changed in our relationship. Yoongi didn’t _want_ me anymore, he didn’t want to be around me, or with me at all. A switch flipped, like one day he realized he didn’t love me in the first place. I don’t know what happened, I don’t know why, but when your entire future is destroyed, do you stand back and watch it burn?”

“Do you want me to answer that?” I ask.

“Sure, what I did after that was terrible, but it was within reason. Everything I did was within reason. I tried to hold onto him, I did what I thought was right to get him to stay and he just, ran. _Bolted_ , broke up with me on the phone like I’m Taylor Swift in 2012. Maybe I am,” Euna rolls her eyes, the comparison both too true and too terrifying. “At least Seokjin had the kindness to break up with me in person. But Yoongi? The _coward_! He knew I loved him. He knew I would carry his child, would marry him, would love him eternally and then some. I would’ve done anything for him. Even after he refused to go family dinners or go on trips with Seo and Jimin, after he started lying and cheating and stealing. He broke my heart, shattered it. If anyone is to blame for what happened after our relationship, it’s him.”

Interested peaked, I inquire “What happened?”

“It’s in my document,” She snaps.

“The handwritten one?” I clarify.

Rolling her delicate ebony irises, “Yes, of course.”

“The abortion, the embezzlement, insider trading?” I try to rattle off the accusations she’d detailed. Somewhere I had a list and had sorted them by man, but damn, there were a lot of them.

“Yes,” She snips.

“That’s all true?” I ask again. The look she gives me is unwarranted, this is the first time in months, nearly a year, that she has sat down with me and discussed the charges. I am well within my right as her Private Investigator to ask clarifying questions.

“Do you make a conscious decision to not believe your clients? Am I not paying you enough Y/N?” Euna snaps.

“I’m sorry,” I respond.

“I should go, I expect next week at our meeting you will have an update on the mystery man,” She stands.

“Yes, yes, I will,”

“Good, oh, there was a note under your door. I didn’t pick it up,” She turns and walks, stepping gingerly over the note. Scrambling behind her, I pick up the folded paper, and scrawled in crystal clear letters it reads:

_Cricket, was driving past when I saw the light on. Why are you working? Come to mine when you’re done, it’s been three restless nights without you._

_XO – Bunny_

Fuck me, I love him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (woof... this is... rough? anyway... things will pick up next chapter)


	18. Cricket & Bunny

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cricket & Bunny take a stroll through the park.

**Cricket & Bunny**

_**Present Day** _

“I want to tell you something,” Jungkook says, his left hand holding mine as we walk through the park near my house, coffees in our free hands.

“What is that?” I ask, hoping and praying he’s not going to confess his unyielding love for me in the middle of this fucking park. I don’t even know why we’re here; I hate nature. I hate being outside, but Jungkook said it was nice out, so we should go on a walk and get coffee before it rains again. Sure. Fine. He better not expect me to do this again anytime soon.

“I asked at work, what I could share about my job,” He’s hesitant, his latent stutter evident as his lips remain tight.

“Oh?” I wasn’t expecting this, at all.

“Yeah, and, well, all I can tell you is that I work for a government agency. I do a variety of things, and that’s all I can say,” Jungkook continues to look anywhere but at me.

“How long have you been working there?” I inquire.

“A really long time,” He answers.

“Do you like it?”

“Yeah, I do,” He nods thoughtfully.

“Okay,” I bring his hand, still intertwined with mine, to my lips. He squeezes mine in response.

“Thanks for coming outside,” He giggles.

“You’re welcome, but don’t expect me to go hiking with you, or anything else outdoorsy. That’s where I play the girlfriend card and put my foot down,” I roll my eyes.

“Mm, I like when you play the girlfriend card,” He hums.

“Good, I don’t plan on stopping anytime soon,” I reply.

Pausing, he asks, “Doesn’t your sister work for the government?”

“Some branch of the CIA but won’t say which,” I remind him.

“Both of you are in law enforcement?”

“I don’t know if I’d qualify what I do as law enforcement,” I tell him.

“Still, you’re both working in the job of protecting people, holding them accountable, making sure the world is a better place,” Jungkook offers.

“That makes it sound more like a savior complex than it is,” I respond.

“You know what I mean though,” Jungkook clarifies.

“I don’t know if I do,” I answer honestly.

“Why are you a PI?” Jungkook asks.

“Why?”

“Yes, how did you become one? Why did you become one?” He expounds.

“I was really addicted to _The Wire_ ,” I inform him.

“ _The Wire_?”

“Yeah, HBO, Omar, Stringer Bell, McNulty, Daniels, Kima! You don’t know?” I can feel my voice escalating in pitch, my true _Cricket_ nature on full display for him.

“No,” He shakes his head, his recently cut locks falling gently around his face.

“We’re going to watch it,” I tuck a stray hair behind his ear, my fingers lingering on his fresh undercut.

He smiles, “Okay.”

“It’s about this group of detectives in Baltimore, and how they play the streets and understand _the game_. Anyway, as I grew up, I started seeing how the police were so intertwined with the toxicity of the world. I didn’t want to be a cop; I didn’t want to be a part of the problem. I guess I was a little self-righteous, self-indulgent. My sister thinks I have an inflated sense of self… Maybe, I do.”

“You loved _The Wire_ but hated police?” Jungkook questions.

“Yes, most of the cops in _The Wire_ are corrupt anyway, even the good ones. I did some research, majored in criminology and forensic science, interned at a few places, and the minute I graduated, I started working.” I sip my coffee now half full, the bottom of the liquid saturated with caramel syrup.

“Why are you a PI?” He asks again.

“I’ve always wanted to be a part of the solution. I could be working to fix the system, but that takes you away from helping the people who have been devastated by the structures in place… I just, nothing makes me angrier than when someone tries their fucking hardest and is beaten down by the world, by their community. It breaks my heart,” I loosen my grip on his hand, giving him a chance to pull away. He holds mine tighter.

“You want to help them, be an agent of peace,” He responds.

“I want to do my part to make the world better, even if it’s just in the littlest hamlet,” I sip my coffee again, blush on my cheeks, embarrassed I’m baring my soul in the middle of a paved path surrounded by flowers, trees and children’s laughter.

“I love that, do what you can, with what you have, right?” Jungkook moves his free hand from mine and drapes it across my shoulders. He pulls me closer, a kiss to my temple.

“Roosevelt? And, yeah, kinda like that. What about you? Why do you do what you do?”

His shoulders rise and fall unassuming as he answers, “Some jobs just find you, you know?”

“You mean a calling?”

“I guess, sure. Or destiny maybe. I sort of stumbled into it, and I’m lucky I love it.”

I nod, not fully understanding what that must feel like to Jungkook, or if it’s something I’ve ever really experienced. I don’t think you can be called to be PI, it’s truly a shortcut that leads to a dead end, every time. That’s what I like about it, the finality, the uncertainty, the only having to answer to myself and the minimal laws in place to define what I can and can’t do.

I take a beat, lost in thought before returning to a question that’d been gnawing me since I bumped into Taehyung, Jimin and Namjoon.

“Do you have friends?” I ask. Jungkook cocks an eyebrow, caught off guard by my inquiry.

“Do I have friends?” He repeats.

“Yeah, when we’re not together, who do you hang out with? Do I need to send you to a different table at lunch so you can be Puffed? Do you have, for lack of a better phrase, _your_ people?” I explain.

“I have friends,” He chuckles. “A few really good ones.”

“Good,” I nod, unsure if I’m relieved he’s not some closeted weirdo who only hangs out with me, or upset that he’s not only hanging out with me.

“Do you?” He asks. That’s how it goes, isn’t it? I ask, then he asks… a balance of curiosity and vulnerability. 

“I mean, I guess?”

“You guess?”

“I guess that somewhere down the line, probably when I became power hungry and career obsessed, relationships fell by the wayside.” I can list the number of friends who I let fall to pieces, the ones with good friends, best friends, who stopped inviting me to things after I continually cancelled. Or the ones who didn’t even notice when I’d pulled away.

“All relationships?” Jungkook asks.

“Yes,”

“Boyfriends?”

“You wanna know my past relationships?” The flair in my temper burns the words as they leave my lips.

“If you want to share,”

“I didn’t,” I start, “I didn’t love them, if that’s what you’re asking. I’ve never been in love, well, I don’t know if that’s true anymore.”

“Hmm,”

“I didn’t really do anything to maintain those relationships though,” I tell him. I suck my bottom lip between my teeth, scraping for any loose skin to nibble off.

“Why not?”

“God, break me open why don’t you,” I look away from him, the sadness seeping in. “I just, no one fought for me, so I didn’t fight for them.”

“Cricket,” His voice is a whisper.

“I’m not, baiting you. I don’t need you to tell me you’re going to fight for me. I fight for myself, I’m the fucking heavy weight champ of the world. I just, that’s why I don’t have a lot of close friends. I was always replaceable until I decided I didn’t want to be in that position ever again. I’d rather be alone than someone’s second choice.” I shrug against his arm, still wrapped around me.

“Does it ever make you sad?” Gently he guides me to the nearest bench where we sit, his arm around me, my hand on his thigh, coffee cups tossed in the closest trash can.

“Of course it makes me sad, and jealous. Like there’s some fundamental part of me that’s just, broken,” I say.

“You’re not broken,”

“Everyone’s a little broken, Bun. There’s just a choice you make, put yourself back together or remain fractured, though not everyone has that choice.”

“I’m broken, too,” His gaze falls on my profile, his voice a note of shared intimacy.

“Yeah?”

“I didn’t grow up at home, I was raised in such a stark environment. It was hard, being thrust into a new life with people I didn’t know, to be melded into who I am by these men, who at the time were just boys,” Jungkook continues, “I feel that, the brokenness, it’s part of the darkness you know?”

“I know the darkness, Jungkook. I didn’t think you did,” I turn to look at him, our eyes meeting. There’s something about looking someone in the eyes, you know? That feeling of knowing their soul, of knowing their heart, instantly in the your pupils focus in on each other’s. I’ve always believed that the minute you looked into someone’s eyes, made note of their eye color, of the slope of their lids and the length of their lashes, you were done for, love was eminent.

“We all know it to some extent, right? Isn’t that what makes us human?” He asks.

“Maybe what makes us human isn’t the darkness, but the way we work to be the light,” I say.

“I love that,” Jungkook responds, nodding as his smile widens.

If he asks me, at some point in the future, what propels me to say these next five words, I don’t know what I’ll say. That it was the way he smiled at me, or how he held me securely, or the way our eyes danced with each others, maybe the feeling of finally being chosen… Of course, it’s all those things and so many more. I turn my body to face his, knee pressing into his thigh, hands now in my lap, eyes still locked with his.

“I think I love you,” I tell him.

“What?” Jungkook squints, head tilting slightly, lips pouting.

“I think I love you,” I repeat.

“You think you do?” He smiles, knowing full well the phrase was tossed out to pad the potential blow that he doesn’t love me back.

“I, yeah,” I swallow the lump in my throat.

“You love me?” His eyebrow is cocked again, a smile on his lips.

“What is this, a rendition of _In the Heights_? If I say love me, will you?” I inquire.

He laughs heartily, “What if I already do?”

“You do?”

“I do,” Jungkook wraps his free arm around my waist and pulls me to him.

“Say it,” I request.

“Only if you do,” He negotiates.

I roll my eyes, “You suck.” 

“You started this,” he reminds me. “Say it,”

He holds my attention as I inhale, fully filling my lungs to capacity, my anxiety and nerves and fear that I’d never be in this moment washing over me. His eyes, hues of watered-down Dr. Pepper, pull me into him. They’re familiar and nothing like anything I’ve seen, coating me in warmth against the changing weather.

“I love you, Jungkook,” I tell him.

Is there anything more vulnerable than stating your deepest emotions to someone, only having an inkling of how they feel in return? Sex is vulnerable, though sex is bodies and carnal desires, while love is, to quote Kelly Clarkson, “many splendid things… dreams for sale and fairytales”.

Love is pride and fear and the worst of them all, _hope_.

Love is honesty, and sacrifice and compromise.

Love is messy.

Love is all I’ve ever wanted.

Love is all I’ve ever felt towards Jungkook.

“I love you too, Y/N,” He says before dipping his head and placing his lips on mine. “More than you realize.”

“Really?” I whisper against his lips, a prayer that this is never ending.

“Mm,” He responds, his signature sound. “Let’s get out of here, and I’ll show you a little.”

“You trying to fuck me?” I ask, eyes still closed, forehead resting against his with a giggle escaping my lips.

“Look at me,” He instructs, and I open my eyes, pulling gently away from him. “I’m not going to _fuck you_ , Cricket, I’m going to make love to you, if you’ll have me.”

“Always,” I answer without hesitation.

“Lock and key,” He whispers.

Laughing again, I roll my eyes, “Oh so this is our thing now?”

“Do you want it to be?” Jungkook’s voice is deliberate, stern, wanting to hold the vulnerability before I slam it shut with a joke about Little Marco (what ever happened to Mr. Rubio?).

“Okay, say it again,” I ask.

Placing his lips to my forehead, his hand moves to entangle his fingers with mine. “Lock and key,”

Placing my lips to his cheek, I whisper in his ear, “You and me.” 


	19. Harboring Hoseok

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our resident P.I. finds who she's been looking for, and gets an unwelcome surprise.

**Harboring Hoseok**

_**Present Day** _

I found Jung Hoseok.

Let me back track that statement – After months of digging, harassing my sister for more help, using all my contacts in various bureaus, lying to Euna that I’d made progress when I hadn’t, I finally have found Jung Hoseok, Hoseok Jung.

I know, you’re wondering, _how_? _What finally cracked the case? How did I, the person incapable of finding Min Yoongi, lucky enough to stumble into Park Jimin, find Jung Hoseok?_

You’ll be shocked, you’ll be amazed, you’ll be dumbfounded that I stumbled into him in the most millennial way possible, because I found him on, don’t hold your breath:

_Instagram_.

That’s right, I stumbled upon Jung Hoseok on fucking Mark Zuckerberg owned, _Instagram_. It was a coincidence, a twist of fate, that I was even in the vicinity of him, because we do not live in the vicinity of each other. I wasn’t sure he was even alive; I wasn’t sure if he had moved continents or countries. But, in the ether, he resides.

Sometime after Jungkook told me he loves me, and after I created permanent scarring on his back from my too long fingernails (they’ve since been cut multiple times), I went to my favorite Barre3 studio. I’m not going to lie, I go regularly. I’m addicted. Yes, it can be cult-ish, but have you ever worked out so thoroughly your ass hurts when you stand? Or listened to a teacher relay the message that you are strong, that your body is powerful, that you can accomplish any challenge? If not, and I know this is propaganda, but like take a class. I can give you a discount.

The point is, somewhere between sumo squats and parallel bridge lifts, I noticed this woman, _stunning_ , who seems to come to class every day before or after she hits the gym with her trainer. The. Stamina. Can you believe? On a Wednesday, I accidentally bumped into her, spilling some of my water down her Sweaty Betty matching set. I apologized profusely, and she laughed it off, saying it cooled her down. She noticed my earrings, liked them, and ever since then we’ve been texting. We’ve even gone so far as to get coffee, which prompted me to do my favorite activity, troll her Instagram. Some people say Instagram is going the way of Facebook, which it easily could be, but it’s so damn fun that I pray every day the trend continues in its favor.

A public figure, Genevieve Yang is the height of couture. She is at every fashion week, Milan, Paris, New York, and donates nearly as much as Kwan and Seo, combined. Leaving the spotlight to work on a smaller sect of her organization, focusing on women’s reproductive rights, specifically women in poverty, she’s rarely photographed or seen outside of said events. Instead, she works 8-5, exercises regularly and rumor has it, is _vegan_. She’s the eldest of three, and her siblings are a pediatric cardiologist and a Rhodes Scholar. Within the universe of the Lee’s, she’s looked down upon for being biracial, her father, a first generation Nigerian-American, fell in love with her mother, a first generation Korean American from Busan, during their study abroad stint in Italy. I’ve been dying to find a connection to the Lee’s, and here, in all her melanin glory, is Genevieve.

In scrolling through her Instagram, I came across a photo series from a few weeks ago. To my surprise, standing with his arm around Genevieve’s shoulder, stands a man with dimples so deep and rays of sun beaming through the photo and barreling past my phone screen.

_Jung Hoseok._

And who should be next to him?

_Lee Kwan-Min_. 

They’re in an ornate ballroom, gold ceilings and ball gowns, masquerade masks held in their manicured fingers. They’ve been drinking and dancing, as is evident in their, what Jungkook would call Asian Glow, and in the caption.

**_Drink every night bc we’re drinking to our accomplishments_**

A paraphrase from a Drake song, it seems to ring true as I scan through the other photos of the evening. It must’ve been _Lee Enterprises_ semi-annual gala, masquerade theme taking turns with Gatsby or in the era of Bridgerton, Regency London. Their summer event, Polos & Picnics, is as you guessed it, a Lacoste and Perignon soaked day drinking celebration of everyone’s summer tans and Hampton houses. It’s anyone’s guess which event raises more money, or costs more to put on. Jun-Seo and Kwan-Min throw a few other smaller events, brunches and casino nights, all earnings going to their philanthropy. The galas are the hottest ticket in North America, and I am still stunned that Hoseok had made it into the embrace of Kwan-Min.

Think Crazy Rich Asians meets the Met Ball. It’s all anyone ever wants to attend, and damn if I’m not jealous every year.

Hoseok is tagged in the photo series, and by clicking on his name, I can see our mutual friend, and nothing more. The age-old question every millennial has to ask themselves is this _, is that enough to send a follow request?_ I don’t know if it is, but what’s the worst that can happen? He blocks me? Alright, that gives me information that I can use. Sure following him would be the best case, but he could leave it pending for weeks.

I send the request and text my newest friend, Genevieve Yang, who immediately calls me.

“Oh Y/N, what do I owe the pleasure?” Genevieve asks.

“I just thought we could chat, I was looking at your Instagram and-

“Oh my god! Do the pics from the Masquerade look good? I can’t tell if people love them, or just tolerate them, you know?” She sips loudly on what I assume is some green smoothie, her favorite non H2O beverage.

“Sure, absolutely, I totally know,” I lie.

“Don’t lie to me,” Genevieve scolds.

“They’re beautiful, but I didn’t recognize who was in that first one with you,” I bait.

“Come off it, you absolutely know,” She laughs but I swear I can hear her rolling her eyes.

“The woman looked familiar, but I don’t know from what,” I tell her, curiosity in my voice. “I have no clue who that man is.”

If she could see me, she’d laugh. A barely eaten sandwich, cold coffee in a travel mug I got when I was 20, and dark circles under my eyes from my inability to sleep the last few nights. The paranoia of the last letter has seeped into my subconscious, and I can’t bring myself to sleep unless Jungkook is nearby, of which, he isn’t. Gone on a business trip for the last three nights, gone for five more. How incredibly rude of him, but there isn’t much I can do when his boss could possibly be _007_ incarnate. Or Danny Trejo.

“She’s one of the heirs to _Lee Enterprises_ ,” She tells me.

“The _Lee Enterprises_?”

“Oh so you do know?”

“I’ve heard of them, how could you not? Their parties are exclusive, and that’s putting it generously,” I respond sipping on my own beverage. Two can play ASMR phone games, Genevieve.

“Oh, the most exclusive, top of the line guests, one year, Beyonce performed, and the next, Adele,” She regales me, tempting me to go off topic. 

“Are you dating that guy? He’s gorgeous,” I inquire.

“Hoseok? No, no, not for me. I think he was going to ask Kwan out,” Genevieve says.

“Really? A new boyfriend?”

Scoffing loudly, “Just because she isn’t like her siblings doesn’t mean she doesn’t date.”

“None of them have a particularly stellar track record,” I remind her.

“Does anyone?” She breathes.

“I suppose not,”

“Mm, anyway, Hoseok is eying Kwan, I’m single and you’re still with that guy, who?”

“Jungkook,”

“Mm, I think Hoseok might know him,” She says.

“What?” I ask.

The thing with being a P.I. is accepting the reality that nothing is a coincidence. There are no happy accidents, nothing is considered fate. I’ve been so, blinded, by my personal connection with Jungkook to see the larger picture. What if he is part of this? Could he be conspiring with these other men? Does he know them, like they seem to be implying? How fucking blind have I been?

“Yeah, he said something to me later, about knowing a Jungkook and wondering if they were the same. He said that it’s not a common name in Korea, so why would it be here?” Genevieve’s soft voice pulls me back from my panic attack.

“Yeah, say, does Hoseok know a Namjoon?” I ask.

“I don’t know, do you want me to ask?” Genevieve sets her drink down, the sound clinking through my phone.

“Uh, no, no, that’s okay,” My hands hastily move against my keyboard, searching Hoseok’s followers for _Namjoon_.

But I don’t find him.

Instead, my blood runs cold at who I find.


	20. Codename: Miss Cuttlefish, If Ya Nasty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Codename Miss Cuttlefish plays double agent OR OT7 begins revealing their next plan.

**Codename: Miss Cuttlefish, If Ya Nasty**

_**Present Day** _

Sitting around the conference table at OT7 headquarters, the six agents listen and watch as _Codename Miss Cuttlefish_ née Genevieve Yang, does her own song and dance. Daughter of operative _Cuttlefish_ , she is trained in field work, and was pulled as a CI over three years ago when Codename Arrow joined the scope of the investigation. Hating to disappoint her mother, she reluctantly joined the mission and just prayed _Codename Bow_ and _Codename Arrow_ never said anything worthy of reporting.

“She’s not an idiot, she has to know this is connected,” Yoongi remarks, eyes staring at _Miss Cuttlefish_ as she engages with _Codename Black Panther_.

“She hasn’t made the connection yet,” Namjoon answers.

“Black Panther is starting to see a pattern, that’s the first step,” Hoseok adds.

“I can’t believe you think we can keep this up,” Tiredly, Yoongi sighs.

“Who said I thought we could keep this up? We cannot, in any realm, keep this going any longer. That’s part of the plan,” Namjoon responds.

“How many steps are there to this plan?” Yoongi asks, he’s beyond burned out, drinking coffee by the liter, eating whatever fast food he could grab on his way home, knowing full well his roommates were riding the same bus. _This is how Namjoon works_ , he reminds himself, to plan and over plan every step of a mission, only keying them in when necessary. This mission, it’s length, it’s breadth, had begun to wear them thin. You don’t spend half a decade on a project, and not count the months, weeks and days until you turn in your final paperwork. Yoongi, and the rest of OT7 could see the light at the end of the tunnel, the problem for Yoongi, was whether that light was hope, or the train itself.

“It’s not like we’re withdrawing from Iran,” Seokjin states. “We just need to position her correctly in order for the rest of this to fall into place.”

“Do you want me to actually give her the intel?” _Miss Cuttlefish_ asks, muting the call while _Black Panther_ speaks.

“Tell her you’ll ask,” Namjoon directs.

“Then what?”

“Lie,” Yoongi shrugs.

“She’s moving to search through his followers,” Seokjin says, changing the screen to a live shot of Black Panther’s computer screen. In his years with OT7, he’d picked up a few new skills, including coding. Though he preferred the monotony of financial records, tracing bank accounts and calling foreign ops, there was something a little thrilling about cloning a computer and observing the movements of its owner.

“Everything’s in place?”

“Yes,” Hoseok answers.

“You made the right call,” Jimin tells Namjoon, his voice low as he looks at his leader.

“Did I?” Namjoon asks softly, his uncertainty written in the dark bags decorating his under eye.

“You’re exhausted, you can’t see the forest through the trees,” Jimin offers. “But you did, Taehyung and I know it wasn’t an easy decision to make.”

“He already resents me.”

“Why are you talking about _Maknae_?” Taehyung asks.

Glancing over at him, Jimin answers, “RM’s worried about him,”

“He’s at headquarters for the week?” Hoseok inquires.

“Yes, some training,” Namjoon responds.

“Hasn’t he perfected everything?” Yoongi snaps.

“Sug-

_Miss Cuttlefish_ hangs up the phone abruptly and stares at the six men. “Did I get what you wanted?”

“You did,” Namjoon snaps his attention away from his hyung, “we’ll monitor _Black Panther_ over the next few days, thank you _Miss Cuttlefish_.”

Genevieve stands, Taehyung following suit. “I’ll walk you out.”

“You sure that’s all?” Jimin snickers. Taehyung’s cheeks flush, Miss Cuttlefish pinches them lightly before pressing her lips gently against the warm skin.

“Do you want me to post more photos?” She asks Namjoon, eyes still on Taehyung’s.

“Black Panther requested J-Hope, correct?”

“Yes,” Jimin refreshes Hoseok’s page and stares at the pending follow.

“What do we do?” Hoseok asks. 

“We accept,” Yoongi answers.

“Then what?”

“We wait,” The finality of his words is met with his actions, and Namjoon doesn’t want any misinterpretation of his movements. He stands from the conference table before retreating into his office and closing the door. Dimming the lights and turning on low music, he tends to his Bonsais and other greenery, giving them a little attention before he extends on his couch. Namjoon wasn’t sure he was making the right decision; wasn’t sure he would be able to salvage whatever would be left after _Codename Black Panther_ came to a head, or if he’d judged accurately. That’s the job of the boss though, isn’t it? He had to make the impossible decisions, the calls that no one else wanted to or could, the ones that decided the fate of a mission.

Some decisions were easy, Taehyung ending his relationship and mission with _Cupid_ had been a no brainer, a decision he knew the minute Tae scheduled the meeting. Using Hoseok in this pedestrian mission was a child’s play, Hobi had the charisma and added bonus of never being seen. He easily could’ve taken Jimin’s role, deftly swaying anyone he came in contact with into falling in love with him. He was precious, intelligent, compassionate and brilliant. Hoseok was always sidelined though because he couldn’t lie, couldn’t withhold, couldn’t tell when someone else was pulling the wool over his exuberant irises. In their early years, it made him a terrible mission lead, but in his forgery work, it made his attention to detail flawless. He had to be so careful, so delicate and exacting otherwise anyone would recognize the faux docs.

Hoseok didn’t have to lie much when he was with _Miss Cuttlefish_ , he could easily weave a tale of working in the fraud department of the FBI, craft old missions into new stories because _Codename Bow_ had never heard them. Playing pretend with another operative was the only time Hoseok felt okay being in the field, he preferred to engage with his group of brothers and his CI’s, collaborating on best practices, creating new protocols for faking passports and White House Stationary.

Other groups within the larger structure of _OT7_ often wondered why Hoseok and Jimin couldn’t trade, didn’t they have similar skill sets? The nuance of their performances, often lacking the pizazz older, retired agents recognized as skill, set the two apart. Both cunning and sly, charming and friendly, the two men knew they could never trade places, most importantly, Namjoon knew. 

The problem arising in this mission, was the sole focus of the project itself. _Black Panther_ presents an element none of them expected, or planned for, or even recognized was part of her personality. _Black Panther_ is deft in her skills, easily adjusting to meet the demand, rising to every occasion and slightly careless in her protections. She’s easy to find, easy to follow, easy to gain access to in every way she boasts not to be. Namjoon couldn’t blame her, everyone was powerless to _OT7_ , after all, that was their goal. No one was out of their reach, no one too far from their grasp regardless of their efforts. He knew it, and soon, she would too.

The complications _Black Panther_ brings to the table are unchallenged, a mountain none of them have yet climbed. Laying in his office, Namjoon wonders if it’s all worth it. If manipulating her will get them where they need to be, or if she’s better off being a casualty none of them blinks an eye over. He could always send _Agust D_ to clean up the mess, but what would that solve? It’d just create another headache for him to manage and another member of his team to be angry with him. Breeding contempt was not his strong suit, but solving it was near impossible.

“Joonie?” Hoseok asks, hand gently rapping the door.

“Hm?” He offers in return.

Poking his head in, Hoseok’s smile relaxes. “Do you want to come over for dinner tonight?”

“Depends, what are you making?”

“Your favorite,” Hoseok chuckles, a welcome sound against the dull lull of the piano.

“You won’t burn it?”

“Seokjin’s going to help,”

“What can go wrong? The two Seok’s battle it out, one too intense, the other too much of a culinary genius,”

“I hope I’m the genius,” Hoseok says sitting down. “You’re welcome to stay the night too, I know how you get,”

“I live in the apartment across from you, Hobi,” Namjoon’s eyes remain closed, his body moving on the couch to accommodate Hoseok.

“I know,”

“With Yoongi and Taehyung,”

“I know,” Hoseok repeats.

“I’m not lonely,” 

“You can be in a crowded room and still feel isolated,”

“I’m not isolated with Yoongi, we shared a room for years before moving across the hall,” Fluttering his eyes open, he stares at Hoseok’s worried expression.

“Namjoon,” Hoseok’s eyes give way to the concern beating in his heart. “You’re stressed about something, you don’t have to tell me what, just walk the five paces from your place to ours and spend some time with us. We can watch whatever movie you want.”

“You’re too good to me,” Namjoon offers a soft smile.

“That’s because we’re family, Joonie,” Hoseok gives his hand a squeeze before walking towards the door. “Oh, and if you have Sprite, bring it.”

“You have millions of dollars, buy more,” Namjoon laughs, eyes closing as he settles into the warmth of Hoseok’s generosity. “Will you wake me in twenty, please?”

“Of course, Joon,” Hoseok gently shuts the door, leaving Namjoon to rest in the silence.


	21. Codename: Black Panther

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Codename Black Panther sends a shock wave through one OT7 member as he grapples with what his orders mean to his life outside the organization.

**Codename: Black Panther**

_**Present Day** _

Jungkook walks into the offices of OT7, sunglasses on, smile on his face as he sends a text message to Cricket. He can’t deny it, he’s happy, like really truly happy and so deeply in love. It’s been a minute since he’s been in any sort of relationship, let alone with someone so dazzling, electric as her. He didn’t mind the fall because it felt too great, too inviting, too much like home. Returning from his training at headquarters, he’d made a bee line to Cricket before returning to the dorms the next day, alerting the others to his suspicious absences. They didn’t pay it much mind, which put Jungkook on high alert. But not too high, after all, the cloud of love has him soaring.

“Jungkook,” Namjoon calls, pulling Jungkook’s eyes away from the text he’d just sent and to the conference room. Everyone is seated around the table, tablets and computers strewn about, coffee cups and refills waiting patiently to be consumed. Yoongi growling about something, Jimin trying to reign in the negativity that was so unnecessary this early in the morning. Jungkook, upon glancing up at the screen, stops dead in his tracks, eyes wide, taking in the image in front of him.

“Why, why is her picture, why is her picture up there?” He stutters.

“ _Black Panther_?” Hoseok’s voice increase by an octave, confusion evident in the heightened pitch and arched eyebrows he addresses at Jungkook’s change in demeanor.

“Why is she up there?” He demands, finger still pointing at the screen. “Whose _mark_ is she?”

“ _Black Panther_?” Hoseok asks again.

“Sit, I was just about to brief everyone,” Namjoon says, pointing to Jungkook’s chair. He sits next to Jimin, who eyes him suspiciously. Jungkook knows that Jimin knows, the slight eyebrow raise, the words unsaid. He’s absolutely fucked.

“What’s got you so hot and bothered?” Yoongi asks. He doesn’t look at Jungkook, just listens to the horror lingering in his voice. “You know her?”

“That’s an understatement,” Taehyung adds, sipping his tea and watching the scene unfold.

“Kook?” Yoongi asks.

“She’s, she’s my girlfriend,” Jungkook tells them, eyes still the size of saucers, heart percussing like a high school marching band in the Macy’s Thanksgiving Parade.

“What?” Hobi’s jaw drops. That was the problem with forgery and documentation, he thought, always the last to know.

“You’re shitting me,” Yoongi cackles.

“Is this going to be a _Cupid_ part 2?” Seokjin asks, eyes warily glancing from JK to Joon. “What was that mission called?”

“ _Codename: The First Heartbreak_ ,” Hoseok answers.

“Who told you?” Jungkook requests.

“Who do you think?” Namjoon responds.

“You were tailing me?” He seethes.

“We weren’t tailing you, we were tailing her,” Taehyung corrects him. “There were too many coincidences, and then,”

Namjoon changes the slide, and there is all the proof OT7 needed. Jungkook and Y/N, holding hands, kissing, arms around each other… Photographic proof from the last eight or so months that they were indeed dating.

The wind is knocked out of his lungs as he collapses into his chair. One photo and he could’ve downplayed it, but an entire series spanning season changes? How long had they known?

“How long has this been going on?” Namjoon demands, knowing full well it’s nearly as long as they’ve been tailing Black Panther.

Jaw locking, Jungkook responds through clenched teeth, “A while.”

Jaw locking to mimic Jungkook, Namjoon grinds his teeth. “How long is a _while_?”

“Shouldn’t you know?” Yoongi interrupts.

“A few months,” Jungkook responds.

“Months?” Hobi asks.

“10 months, five days,” Jungkook clarifies.

“Ten months?” Jimin yells.

“We’ve only got proof of the last six!” Taehyung answers.

“You’ve been sitting on this for six months?” Yoongi barks. “You didn’t tell me?”

“Are you in love?” Seokjin questions.

“Is she in danger if I am?” Jungkook doesn’t look to his hyung, eyes still staring down Namjoon.

He shakes his head in response. “No more than she is if you aren’t,” Clearing his throat, he changes the graphic on the screen. “For the sake of this mission, we need to begin to isolate work JK from real world JK,” Namjoon instructs. “You can ask him questions about his dating life during off hours.”

“ _Black Panther_ knows about your job?” Yoongi asks.

“She knows that I work for a government agency, doing a variety of tasks, but that’s it,” Jungkook informs him. “I asked. I asked you if I could tell her-

“You asked if you could tell the person you’re dating, you never said it was _her_ ,” Namjoon snips. The tension has moved through his entire body, clenching his muscles.

“How was I supposed to know she was the one you were following?” Jungkook bites back. “You didn’t say anything!”

“I am not obligated to,” Namjoon responds. “And you asked so early on, I didn’t know.”

“Didn’t know she’d become a pawn in your games?” Jungkook asks.

“You had been dating a few months, I didn’t know she was going to be a part of this.”

“But when you found out, you kept it to yourself, so you, Jimin and Taehyungie could plot and plan,” The accusation sits low in his brows, scraping the bottom of his vocal register against the truth he’s desperately seeking.

“Jungkook,” Namjoon clicks his jaw, his tell, and Jungkook prepares for the battle by cocking his eyebrow, daring Joon to make a move.

Using his analytical mind to read the room, Seokjin uses his place as the eldest to break the tension. “Does she know you are connected to us?”

“No, she doesn’t know that we’re connected, but she’s asked about the tattoo,” Jungkook informs them.

“I told you not to get that stupid-

“You’re the one who sent her notes on watermarked paper!”

“That was one note!” Hoseok interjects. “It was one note, and I will not rat out whoever did it, but it was handled.”

“Focus on what matters,” Seokjin interjects.

“The intimidation you’ve been sending her for months?”

“Jeon,” Namjoon’s choice of last name does not go unnoticed, and Jungkook shrinks into himself.

“I can’t tell how pissed Joon is,” Taehyung says, eyeing their leader. “Is this Yoongi forgets to turn on his recorder during a meeting about an _Agust D_ mark, or Hoseok putting the wrong date on the –

“Why are you dragging us into this?” Yoongi asks.

“Say something,” Jungkook whispers.

“How did you two meet?” Namjoon wants to know.

“In a bar,” Jungkook answers. The room is silent, everyone negotiating whether to leave it at that, or press on. They know what Namjoon said, but clearly that doesn’t apply today.

Yoongi just wants the kid to be happy, the youngest of the 7, he’s been indoctrinated with OT7 nonsense since before he had a say, raised to be a top operative in all fields, Jungkook has unwillingly given up the most.

Hoseok, ray of light that he is, feels similarly to Yoongi, though with less guilt.

Taehyung and Jimin, however, exude an air of being completely pissed off by the news.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell us,” Jimin says.

Taehyung nods, “Aren’t we brothers?”

“I didn’t want to spoil it, or for you to go digging. I didn’t want to know anything other than what she’s told me. If I told you, well, you’d do your job a little too well.”

“If you asked, we wouldn’t have,” Taehyung tells him.

“You’re mad at me,” Jungkook states.

“It sucks to find out your brother is dating and potentially in love with someone through your job, not from them,” Jimin answers.

“You didn’t even hint that you were together,” Taehyung adds.

“You didn’t tell her about us?” Jimin asks.

“She, she knows a little, but not your names. I didn’t know, I didn’t know this was her case, or that you’d be watching her.”

“Some operative,” Yoongi scoffs.

“Min,” Namjoon warns.

“Alright, sorry,” Yoongi’s hands are raised in surrender, his smirk tilting his lips.

“She knows, Jungkook, about us,” Taehyung’s voice is soft. He was always the most delicate with Golden Maknae, something he’d developed when they trained together.

“I know,” The crown of his head is all that can be seen.

“How?”

“You think I don’t know? She’s, I don’t think she’s worried about me being a part of Cupid’s world, but she knows I’m somehow connected to you lot,”

They sit silently, again, waiting for anyone to speak. Taehyung and Jimin have put some of the pieces together, in their secretive alcove of an office, away from Yoongi’s gaze, they refused to mention that they had potentially fucked up, let alone dragging Namjoon into the errors. As they wait, Yoongi and Hoseok’s nonchalance oozing through the men. Jungkook’s shoulders relax, eyes closing, head resting against the back of his chair. He can’t hold back the tears that are falling, the fear and desolation pulling them down his chin.

“Jungkook, I am going to ask you to do a few things, and when I ask, you are going to do them in a timely manner, and not argue with me about it, do you understand?” Namjoon always inevitably breaks the silence. His words, a formality they all were expecting.

“You’re giving me a direct order?” Jungkook clarifies.

Solemnly nodding, a gesture that surely would tip his entire body into a bow if he was standing, Namjoon replies, “Yes.”

Mimicking his action, Jungkook nods before speaking, “Can I refuse?”

“No,” Seokjin answers for him.

Jungkook looks to Seokjin, whose brown irises are fervent behind his spectacles. He understands the pain that comes with having a girlfriend that OT7 wants to use. He’s been through the heartache of breaking up because work demands it. Staring back at him, Jin knows what he went through with Cupid is nothing like JK and Black Panther, when love is involved, it raises the stakes exponentially.

“You need to send in photos of her evidence, the ones not transferred to her computer,”

“The ones she keeps in her surveillance bag,” Jimin answers.

“You will wear a wire and conform to the set of rules that your predecessors have followed,” Namjoon continues.

“This is a real relationship, a woman I care about deeply, someone I want a future with. You, I won’t.”

“You don’t have a choice,”

“Send me on assignment, send me to headquarters or to Tanzania, send me somewhere but please, don’t make me do this.”

“Jungkook,” Yoongi, ever soft for his maknae, saunters over to Jungkook. Crouching in front of him, midnight irises into midnight irises, he stares at the teared vessels. “We all have something we have to sacrifice, that we don’t want to put on the line. Seokjin gave up something potentially wonderful, lord knows the danger we put TaeTae in. We all have to, at some point, make that move. Now it’s your turn.”

“All for one and one for all, right?” Jungkook snorts, the snot dripping from his sinuses pulling back against the pressure.

“You don’t have to lie to her,” Namjoon’s voice has softened, his sleepless nights giving way to the torturous job of being in charge.

“You’re asking me to inherently lie to her, to pretend that I’m something I’m not, to sneak around and collect her information! That’s lying,”

“Yeah, it is,” Yoongi stands, “But what else are you going to do?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I hope you like it! please comment, leave kudos or bookmark the series - we're nearing the end of this tale!)


	22. The Final Notice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lee Euna receives a startling message and goes to the one person she assumes will have the answers, or at least, an explanation.

**The Final Notice**

_**Present Day** _

The note said they’d be meeting me face to face, but months have passed, and I am sitting here, _waiting_. Waiting for a sign, for another note, for someone to be sitting in my living room when I return home, for a dead rabbit to appear in my pasta pot, Jungkook to be taken for ransom, literally _anything_. And yet, nothing has happened. No note or call.

I’ve increased surveillance on Taehyung, the only one who seems to connect some of these men, and by a stroke of pure genius, put a tracker on his car and Namjoon’s, as well as a few bugs in their apartment. There’s only so many times you can send flowers with a vague card, and a listening device embedded within the glass. Who gets rid of vases? Hopefully not these men.

I’ve learned few things in my listening, namely that I am correct. The men are connected. Taehyung and Jimin are best friends and spend an innumerable number of hours together. They also spend time with Namjoon, who I think, if I’m correct, knows Hoseok. Hobi is a nickname for Hoseok, right? And if not, I’m fucked. They’ve added a new person to their discussion, someone they call _Black Panther_ , who sounds like a right pain in the ass. All they do is bitch about how they’re constantly on call to deal with Black Panther’s mess, that Black Panther is getting in their way and in turn, ruining all plans. They speak in some code I don’t know, and I don’t know how to crack it. What I’m more startled by, is the fact that they continue to call this mystery person black panther, who calls a friend Black Panther? That’s like, cultural appropriation _lite_?

It’s not, I’m kidding. It’s totally not.

When I put it all the information together, Black Panther out of the equation because I have no idea who it is, it doesn’t amount to much. Names and addresses, a few yelp reviews, and nothing more. My gut is telling me there’s something here, something more than what Euna believes. Hoseok showing up in Genevieve’s photos, the trio going out to dinner, the mysterious note with the water mark, it has to add up to _something_. That and they keep mentioning the 7 of them, when the 7 of them are together, they’ll make sense of it, when the 7 of them are all clued in, they can handle Black Panther. Is Black Panther not their seventh member?

The door to my office slams open, and a disgruntled Euna stomps in, lily white, tears cascading through her foundation.

“Euna, what a sur-

“Did you know about this?” She demands, shoving a picture in my face.

“What?”

“They know each other!” She yells.

The photo, a polaroid, of Min Yoongi, Park Jimin, Kim Taehyung and Kim Namjoon. I’ve never seen them all together, Euna was right, they are despicably pretty.

“How in your world did you not figure out that they know each other?”

“I-

“They look pretty fucking chummy to me!”

“Euna, please, sit, let’s chat,” I stand to get her a water, which she yanks out of my hand and tosses down her throat.

“Have you been withholding information?” Her voice has simmered, the bubbles of discontent slowly rising to the surface but never popping.

All I can do is sigh and shrug my shoulders. Lying is not going to work, she’s paying me enough to give her one of my unused eggs, the least I can do is be honest with her. 

“That’s unfair, I could demand money back for your deception,” Euna says.

“I have withheld information on the basis that I need more time to connect the dots,” I start. “This is season 1 of _The Wire_ and I’m fucking McNulty asking for more time to put the wire up. These men, Euna,” I exhale again, “It’s not linear, I can’t just plot them and see the whole picture. It’s much more complicated than that.”

“Explain,”

“All of it?”

“Yes, all of it, you think I want to fucking understand parts of it?” Valid question.

“Fine. It starts sometime when Kim Namjoon was sixteen, I’m not sure what that something is, but that’s the beginning of it. He was a prodigy, renowned in mathematics and rhetoric, short listed for a Nobel Prize by fifteen. After Namjoon, it moves to you and Seokjin, which leads to you and Yoongi, Jun-Seo and Jimin. Finally, it all ends up at Taehyung and whatever happened there,” I glance at her, hoping she’ll tell me if the supposed abortion was from him or someone else. “Somehow Jung Hoseok winds up at _Lee Enterprise’s_ Masquerade, and Kim Namjoon comes back into the picture as a friend of Jimin and Taehyung’s.”

“Jung Hoseok has taken Kwan on a few dates,”

“Are they still seeing each other?”

“No. That’s all you’ve got?”

“I’ve got more, but I’m not sure it’s going to help you understand this anymore than you already do.” I don’t move to open any files on my computer or pull up any surveillance, Euna doesn’t need that, that information won’t help her in any way understand what these men have in common.

“Does this make sense to you?” She asks.

“It’s all,” I sigh, “fits and starts.”

“Why am I paying you?”

“Euna, you have given me an already impossible job, and then added more impossible tasks on top of that. I have found all of these men, I have addresses, I have occupations and locations of current employment for five out of seven. I’ve done a fucking good job on something that should truly be solved by a governing body, not a P.I. who bought thirty dollar’s worth of Indian food and ate it over five days because I couldn’t afford to buy more. I’ve used all my resources, called in favors, spied, tiptoed on the brink of impropriety in order to get you results. I’ve done a damn good job.”

Glowering, her voice is impenetrable, “Then why can’t you find Min Yoongi?”

“That man has erased himself from the internet, completely, from every website, every search, he’s just gone.” Exasperatedly, I throw my hands in the air as my voice rises. How many times can I explain this to her?

“He’s alive though,” She counters.

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean I can pinpoint him,” I grit my teeth and stand, pacing slowly around my office, her voice trailing behind me as I move.

“He’s really,” She pauses, “Out of any of them, Y/N, he’s the one.”

I run my hand through my hair before pulling at the strands and aggressively knotting it in a ponytail, the anger feeding into the heat of my body and I shed my sweatshirt. A sweatshirt, with a line drawing of a uterus, that my mother refused to buy me for my birthday so I spent $90 on it myself. I know Euna hates it, but it’s my office and I didn’t know she’d be popping in today in her Dior terrycloth jumpsuit. If I did, I would’ve at least put on a J.Crew sweatshirt and leggings that don’t have wax on them from making crayon art with the kids I used to nanny. 

“I know, Euna. I know he’s important, I know he’s the one that got away, I know he’s the white whale of this whole investigation. But Euna, he-

In the middle of my breath, the door opens again creating a space for Jungkook to saunter in. He’s parted his hair, a little off center, and hasn’t put in any product leaving the tendrils to fall softly framing his face. His locks are still long adjacent, and his left hand is using his sweater paw to hold a scalding beverage. His eyebrows are sloped, a genuine look of concern reflecting into my irises. The relief I feel cascading over me, of familiarity, of home, nearly bulldozes me into him.

“Cricket, I brought you some,” His voice trails as he takes in my client. “Coffee.”

“Oh thank god,” I whisper. Taking the cup from him, my eyes apologetic as I fall gracelessly into his open arms. The scent of his shampoo and cologne swirl in my nose, relaxing my senses. Nothing smells as sexy as Jungkook. No one looks as sexy as Jungkook does, no matter what he’s wearing, no matter the time of day or night. NSYNC put it best when they sang “ _god must’ve spent a little more time on you_ ”, because whoever arranged the chromosomes and bone structure within Jungkook truly made a masterpiece. As the kids would say, he’s a whole ass meal. Jungkook keeps a hand splayed on my back while he turns back to Euna. He scans her up and down, no doubt assessing the level of danger she’s presenting.

“Who are you?” Euna snaps.

“This is my boyfriend, he was just dropping off some coffee,” I answer. The arm around his waist squeezes a little tighter, my head still resting against his chest.

“Do I know you?” She wonders.

“Me?” Jungkook asks.

“Yes, you, who else?”

He looks from me to her and back again, “Uh.” He shakes his head.

“You look so familiar,” She eyes him cautiously, “You’re Korean?”

“Uh, yeah,” His affirmation causes a twinkle in her eye, a recognition that if she wanted, she could use the powers at her fingertips to find his life story, overturn any

“Hmm,” She scans him again. “Are you leaving?”

“Oh, yeah sorry to interrupt,” Jungkook quickly glances at me, mouth moving to form SORRY as he scurries out the door. I hate when he leaves.

“Don’t fall in love with Korean men, they’ll ruin your life,” Euna sits back down, tossing back some of her water before looking back at the photo.

“Was something else left? A note maybe?” I hope this will move her back to the topic at hand, the photo in question and whomever left it, not my relationship.

“Yes, there was,” She reaches into her purse and oh how I wish she had gloves on. The note reads like the last one I received, rhyming and all.

“ _ **You’re looking too hard / We’ve been in plain sight / Stop looking for us / Or we’ll turn out your light**_ ,” I read. “Wow, premeditated violence.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Euna’s gone back to panic, eyes wild and cheeks red.

“It means they’ve been in front of us this whole time, as in, we’ve overlooked them,” I clarify.

“How could you have overlooked them?”

“I’m not the only one, Euna, you have maybe overlooked them too. Maybe it’s a larger commentary on your persona in a relationship.”

“My persona in a relationship? What would you know of that?”

“I know what you’ve told me, and I know what I’ve seen through our interactions. No one is perfect,” I’m trying to soften this, but she’s truly living up to Dae-Seong in her blind rage.

“Don’t try and compare your relationship to the heartache I have endured!”

“Euna, I’m not,” The exasperation cannot be more pronounced as I roll my eyes and sigh heavily.

“Your boyfriend, does what? How do you know he isn’t involved with these bastards?”

“I don’t,” My honesty cuts her off, eyes widening slightly at my levelheaded response. Her pause gives me worry, what is she thinking?

“Well, what do we do with these?” She shifts in the tension I’m brewing, I’m unsure what the solution is.

“I can spend the afternoon trying to trace it, I can fingerprint the note and see what comes up, if anything,” I offer.

“Will something?” A glimmer of hope, the worst emotion to ever contain or blossom in the human mind.

“Probably not, whoever these men are, they are far too good to be caught doing whatever it is they’re doing.”

“We need them all, all six,” Euna demands.

“What do you want from them?” The thousandth time it leaves my lips, it’s complete insanity. This will never change.

“What every woman wants,” She broods.

“Euna, I don’t know what that is,” I’m sinking lower into my chair with every syllable.

“Those who ask don’t get to know,” Abruptly she’s standing and leaving, belongings gathered in one hand, feet stomping heavily into the aged hardwood.

_Ah_ , another hint at her upbringing.

I’m moving slowly through my apartment, Jungkook already sitting on the couch looking deeply cozy in his favorite grey sweats and a sweatshirt with a famous swoosh emblezaned across his chest. Dinner, pizza, is on its way, and a very large glass of prosecco sits waiting for me. I in turn am tossing off my bra, a sight Jungkook is audibly upset by, and coming to sit on the couch, in his embrace.

“I couldn’t leave, she was mad, I was worried about you,” He tells me, his lips pressing to my forehead repeatedly. “I didn’t know if she was going to hurt you.”

“About me? Bunny I’m okay, she doesn’t scare me, at least not physically,” I reply, my lips pressing against his neck in recognition of his vulnerability.

“I didn’t know if she was going to hurt you,”

“Bunny,” I sit up, turning my head to his.

“Cricket,” His eyes move from mine to my lip, his thumb coming to swipe over the bitten cherry of my lower lip.

“I love you, thank you for worrying about me,” I tell him, leaning in to kiss him, his soft, well moisturized lips making up for the bruised state of mine.

“I love you too,” He hesitates, his lips starting to say something but stopping.

“Jungkook?”

“I also found, this,” He pulls out a note, the watermark distinguishable against the light.

In black ink, a date and time is printed, and underneath:

**_Roses are red / Violets are blue / It’s time for us to meet / We’re ready, are you?_ **

“What does this mean?” Jungkook asks.

“It means that, that I’m meeting with someone who may or may not want something from me, or maybe will hurt me. So just, be prepared.”

“What’s the one promise you made me make when we first started dating?” He pulls me back into his embrace, but I catch the sadness in his eyes.

“Aren’t we still in that honeymoon phase?” I want to lighten the mood and not focus on the way my heart is hurting. I never thought I would be the one concerned about not coming home, having Jungkook panicking over my safety.

I don’t like it, like at all.

“Absolutely, I think we’ll always be in that phase, but Y/N, please answer the question,” His arms tighten around my waist, another kiss to my temple, replaced by his soft cheek.

“If you’re not coming home, tell me. If something is going to jeopardize you coming back to me, you have to let me know,” I quote myself.

“So, if you are going to jeopardize your safety, Y/N, Cricket, my beloved, you gotta tell me. Let me follow you or drop a pin, or use _Find My Friends_ so I can check up on you,” Jungkook rattles off all the apps with ease, a feat I find slightly concerning.

“I don’t want you to –

“No, no arguing.” His voice is curt, his words definite.

“Okay,”

“I love you, Cricks, and I don’t ever want to imagine anything happening to you.”

“I know Bunny,” If I could burrow into him, I would. His embrace is my safe place, my weighted blanket after a panic attack, fuck during a panic attack.

I have to come home to him. Whatever this note entails, it doesn’t matter. Torture me, harm me, beat me up, put me in the hospital, it doesn’t matter so long as when I wake up, or am lucky enough to walk away, I can come through that fucking front door to Jungkook.

“You didn’t say it back,” He teases.

Rolling my eyes dramatically, squirming intentionally in his grasp so that I can lock eyes again, I sigh. “I love you too.”

“Don’t act like that when you’d do the same to me!” He begins tickling me, and I feel beyond grateful for his duality.

“Stop it! Stop it! You’re right, okay!”

Giggling, his “I know,” is coupled with a kiss. He moves swiftly through my laughter to take my bottom lip between his teeth, tongue swiping over the indentations of his teeth before meeting mine. His hands, under my top and massaging my overheating flesh, pull me closer to him. I tug his locks as a moan escapes my lips, swallowed by his own groan as I reach my hand to palm him over his pants.

“Cricket,” He groans.

“Bunny,” I reply.

He pulls away, pushing my torso down onto him, where my hips happily grind against him.

“Lock and key?” He whispers, eyes refusing to close as he attempts to restrain himself from giving into the feeling of my heated core over his.

“God we’re that couple now?” I stop my ministrations, staring at his features. How did I get so lucky?

“Haven’t we always been?” He cocks an eyebrow, and I’m surprised he hasn’t mustered a ‘what’ to accompany the gesture.

“I guess,” I roll my eyes, which he greets with a thrust of his hips.

“Lock and key,” He repeats, hand behind my head, holding my gaze to his.

“You and me,” I answer, the smile on my lips finding his again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I hope you like it... please bookmark, send comments, give kudos... it all matters)


	23. Cricket & OT7: Return to Sender

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Black Panther, Cricket and OT7 finally meet.

**Cricket & OT7: Return to Sender**

_**Present Day** _

“Why are you following me?” I ask, hands bound together, eyes blindfolded. The car has stopped, and whomever was driving has exited the vehicle in favor of opening my door and yanking me out. It’s silent, apart from my breathing and unavoidably stalky footsteps. I’ve never been able to walk on eggshells, perhaps it was my mother’s direction that stomping on them was far more impactful, that has led me to wear through every heel of every shoe I’ve ever owned. Now, it isn’t my saving grace, rather a rude awakening that I must sound like an ogre to the people who live below me.

I arrived at the designated location, Jungkook trailing behind me. He refused to let me go alone but did compromise and stay in the damn car. He could see me, and I could see him. I was waiting for no more than a minute before promptly kidnapped. Not even chloroformed, just fucking grabbed and taken. Kidnapped, blindfolded and bound. Bound! Some knot a boy scout or aspiring I’m tossed in the back of a car, which, is how I’ve found myself willfully dragging my heels as they ever so gracefully force me in their desired direction.

“ _Black Panther_ , why are you following us?” The voice asks. I know that voice, I’ve heard it before, I’ve heard that code name. Had it been referring to me this entire time?

“Us?” I ask again, tossing my voice to see if it reverberates against anything, any sign that furniture or people are nearby.

The man guiding me stops abruptly and peels off my blindfold. Empty spaces are their own kind of hell, and this is no exception. The panic of darkness arises as I close and open my eyes, ensuring they’re really open and not a trick of the mystery man’s charms. I jump softly as seven lights are dropped, one in each spot in front of me, a delicate row of halos waiting to be adorned. Five men step out of the shadows, the one holding me in place making number six. Their pressed suits, cut from the finest cloth, each distinct in their pattern and style, garnish their bodies. As if on cue they cross their arms over their chests and glare openly at me.

“Kim Namjoon, Kim Seokjin, Min Yoongi, Jung Hoseok, Park Jimin, Kim Taehyung,” I rattle off, each man nodding as I speak their names.

I know them all, tailed them, surveyed their homes, run into them at the grocery story and Mexican restaurants. All except fucking min _Yoongi_ , but I know them. I know these men. I’ve spent the better part of what, two years, trying to understand them, trying to figure out how they’re related, and here they are. There’s space for another, and it takes me a minute to realize who it is that occupies that is supposed to occupy that spot.

“There’s only six of you… where’s -

“Jeon Jungkook,” His voice comes from behind me, goosebumps running up my spine as the heel of his boots hits the concrete. My body is awash in shock, anger, comfort and hope. My Jungkook. My, I have to come home to him, my north star, my sunshine on a cloudy day, my Bunny.

I was fucking right all along, wasn’t I?

“Welcome to the party.” Seokjin says.

“Is this where you tell me that Euna is Hans Gruber and somehow I’m Sergeant Powell?” I question, by tone delicate against their stone expressions.

“If anything, you’re Harry Ellis,” Yoongi says.

“That’s so rude,” I retort. “At least let me be Holly Gennaro.”

“Then who are we, McClane?” Yoongi snorts, the absurdity of my statement causing a brief moment of joy. “ _Bunny_ wishes.”

“You’re interrupting our mission,” Namjoon states, pulling my attention to him. His broad shoulders give way to a tapered waist, round golden spectacles are situated against his face, and his jaw is locked tight.

“Me? How the fuck – _oh_ ,” My eyes move towards the bulletin board against the far wall, in quintessential fashion there are pictures, string, maps and enough thumbtacks to secure the list of vets from the Vietnam Memorial. I can’t read it, but I can see it. “You guys aren’t the bad guys.”

“No, we’re not,” Namjoon says.

“The Lee family is,” Taehyung says. It’s odd seeing him this quiet and stoic, after all he’s the hottest librarian in the damn county. He comes alive within the confines of his books and stories, he comes alive. He has voices and characters and gestures to match each. Looking at him now, it’s wild to imagine him doing a full interpretive reading of _The Very Hungry Caterpillar_ , or his most famed retelling, _Peter and the Starcatcher_ , when he’s glowering down at me.

“They are poison, seeking revenge on anyone who has worked on cases to bring them down,” Hoseok says.

“So, you all, how did she find you?” My mind is moving too fast for me to form coherent sentences.

“ _Cupid_ didn’t find us,” Jimin tells me, eyes still boring holes into mine.

“You did,” Namjoon answers.

“I did?” I ask, eyes wide.

“Mm, your little stunts, your run ins, your photos. She gave you our real names and you-

“Gave her our locations,” Taehyung finishes the sentence, eyes still trained on me.

“You left the notes, and the photo for Euna to find,”

“Yes, but unlike you, our move was intentional,” Yoongi says.

“ _Codename Cupid_ needed to know there were higher stakes at play,” Hoseok tells me.

“How was I supposed to know this was some larger conspiracy?” I demand, temper rising.

“Did you not receive notes?” Hoseok asks, by his expression I can tell that he’s responsible for the code breakers that have arrived at my apartment and office over the last nine months. “Strange packages arriving out of nowhere, sent to your office, on the driver’s seat?” Hoseok pushes.

“Yeah, but I’ve had some really sketchy clients in the past, though none of them preferred an ABA rhyme scheme,” I retort.

“Do you know how we found you?” Yoongi snaps.

“Yes?” I ask, genuinely confused, “Google my name and my office pops up. Anyone can find me.”

“Your tactics are fucking bush league, _Black Panther_. They’re embarrassing,” Yoongi tells me.

“You’re a P.I., not a cop, not an agent, you’re not in the Bureau, yet you’re overstepping into situations that you have no grounds being involved in. You are fucking playing with fire and we were about to be burned if we hadn’t –

“Seokjin,” Namjoon’s voice is biting, harsh, a belt to the back as it cracks in the hot air.

“She needs to know,” Taehyung responds for his hyung.

“ _Cupid_ has been lying to you for months, leading you on, paying you over your asking to track us down for what? A few lies you don’t even believe to be true?” Jimin asks.

“We embezzled funds from their charity organization? We reported her family to the IRS?” Taehyung asks.

“We stole jewelry from her famed collection to sell on the black market?” Seokjin adds.

“We’re trafficking high quality cocaine from Colombia into the upper echelon of society?” Jimin rattles off more lies.

“We fucked her, broke her heart, and god – the worst one – we made her abort our child?” Yoongi spits on the floor, disgust flowing through his saliva like blood in the Nile.

I stare at them, mouth agape as they recite words I’ve only spoken to one person. My vision becomes blurry as I try to breathe, in through my nose, out through my mouth, but my heart is pounding in my ears and I can’t breathe. The tears always sting before they fall, and my eyes land on him, tall, blonde hair, clear framed glasses, doe eyes.

“You told them?” I whisper, the end of my sentence curling up into itself as the first tears start to fall.

“I had to,” A whisper, feet frozen to the ground as he refuses to make eye contact with me.

“You were using me?” I ask. “Look at me.”

“I wasn’t using you,” He says, soft eyes meeting mine, the fire scorching the earth.

“So how do they know?” I spit, the little droplets doing nothing to squelch the flames.

“I had –

“You told them information that I shared with you, in confidence, in my fucking _bed_ , in my fucking _home_ Jungkook!” I yell.

“Cricket, can we talk about –

“How dare you use my nickname to get me to calm down, I’m not a fucking child,” the sound of my cries reverberates against the warehouse, echoing violently.

“I can exp-

“There isn’t time for you to sort out your fuck up, Jeon. We have real problems to discuss,” Yoongi snaps. I can feel the tears dripping from my chin, falling to the concrete beneath my feet. The adrenaline pumping through my body as both a reaction to fear and a telltale sign that I’ve been embarrassed beyond repair. Not just embarrassed, eviscerated, betrayed. An hour ago, hadn’t I been deeply in love, terrified I wouldn’t return home to him? 

“What do you want from me?” I ask. Jimin hands me a tissue, which I am grateful for as I attempt to gently blot my soaked skin. My mascara, never waterproof, comes off my eyes in dark splotches. How poetic.

“Come, have a seat, Jungkook, get her a water,” Namjoon instructs. He strides towards the bulletin board and pressing a few buttons, the board sinks in the floor to reveal a hallway. The gasp that echoes through the warehouse is audible, and louder than I intend.

“Sorry,” I say, feet guiding me past Jungkook, towards the corridor. There are no pictures on the walls, no signs that this space is used by anyone. The industrial style gives way to a door, bulletproof.

Namjoon pauses, inserting his thumb into a scanner that gives way to a retina display, where he gently places his chin against the base. The machine works quickly before giving him entrance. I watch, amazed. Who knew in the 21stcentury that covert ops and me, a lonely P.I., would intersect?

“This is, headquarters,” Seokjin says. He takes a seat at the long table in front of us and points to the chair next to Taehyung. I sit quickly, my eyes adjusting to the surprisingly bright space.

“Oh my god the view,” I say, composure slightly recovered as I take in the expanse of greenery.

“Yeah, benefit of being in the middle of nowhere,” Yoongi says.

“Read your file,” Namjoon instructs.

The file in front of me, manilla of course, is packed. “Why paper copies?”

“Easier to burn,” Yoongi mutters. He’s taken out his computer and is busy typing away, no doubt pulling up a list of my infractions. Undoubtedly fucking an undercover operative is number one, though falling in love is objectively far worse than sex.

Jungkook brings me a water and deftly cuts the zip ties around my wrist. His hand moves to sooth the indentation and redness from their grip, but I pull them away before his thumbs graze over the skin. Out of the corner of my eye I watch him retreat to his seat at the end of the table.

“If you’re the top of the line, 007 should be shaking in his oxfords, can’t you encrypt it?” I ask.

“Your encryption is only as good as your worst coder. We can’t take that chance,” Namjoon tells me.

“First, I don’t think that’s the saying. Second, the government, who I’m assuming you work for, Interpol, MI6, etc. all use computer systems,” I counter.

“Do you remember the election of 2016?” Yoongi retorts.

“Point taken,” I nod. Of course, _Russia_. No one was ever safe. “But can’t you blame a lot of that on Zuckerberg and the higher ups at Twitter?”

“Read your file,” Namjoon instructs again.

I open it to find a rather aggressive breakdown of my work as a PI, both items that were on the internet and ones that only top-level government agents could have accessed, that is, unless the NSA has been tapping my phones. Details of my family life, my past relationships, my driving record, it was all here.

“Why isn’t Jungkook on the list of romantic partners?” I ask, eyes looking from Seokjin to Namjoon.

“Are you in love?” Namjoon asks.

I don’t wait for a response from Jungkook, or to find the courage to say the simple three lettered word, _yes_. Instead, I busy myself by clearing my throat and loudly moving the pages about my life to a separate pile. Underneath is all my evidence, print outs of my documents, surveillance photos of me working. I stare at them, horrified.

“How long have you been tailing me?” I question.

“How long have you been working with Euna?” Taehyung asks.

“Sixteen months,” I reply.

“Ten months.” Taehyung answers.

“You hacked my computer? Is that legal?” I inquire, knowing full well that it isn’t.

“I can tell that you don’t understand who you’re dealing with, so let me put it this way. We’re the ones who knock. We’re the ones who cause dignitaries, presidents, whole countries to quake in their boots. It’s us.” Namjoon’s voice is calm within the storm, its resolute and baritone and every word that he utters is meaningful, impactful. He means what he says, and he fucking says what he means. In every interaction I’ve had with him, which frankly have been maybe more than he realizes, he’s been measured in his speech, only speaking when he has something worth saying. He is patient with himself, kind to others, except for today, when he clearly does not want to deal with me.

“How very Heisenberg of you,” I roll my eyes.

“You don’t want to be Jane,” Namjoon urges.

“Okay first of all, in a _Breaking Bad_ scenario, I’m clearly Jesse. Second of all, Krysten Ritter has had a very lovely career. Finally, this cannot be overlooked or underestimated, I’m Veronica Mars, _bitch_.”

“Read. Your. File.” Namjoon’s teeth are clenched, his fist resting on the table, his patience going.

I glance at Yoongi who is sniggering, Seokjin who is making eyes at Jungkook, and Jimin who is busy doodling along the margins of his file. These glimpses, these little hints at the weight of their souls, these are the men I’ve been following for nearly two years.

It’s in staring at the remnants of my evidence that it hits me. “Jungkook gave you these photos.”

“Yes,” Seokjin answers.

“Everything you told me was a lie,” I say, eyes burning holes into the stolen images of my work.

“Crick- Y/N, that’s not true,”

“I knew you were connected, that day in the dog park, I knew,” I should’ve trusted my instincts, though they told me to trust him, maybe I should’ve run.

“I didn’t lie, Cricket, I -

“Look, I’ll work with you, whoever you are, but I’m not working with Jungkook,” I look at Namjoon.

“That’s not an option, _Black Panther_ ,”

“How did I get that nickname?”

“Can you focus for ten minutes? Read your damn file so we can discuss the next course of action before you have to go meet _Codename Cupid_ for your weekly meeting,” Namjoon bites.

“Fine, do I have to go to that meeting if you’re, doing whatever you’re doing?” I question. “Seems a bit redundant.”

“If you don’t meet with _Cupid_ , she will know we found her, and our decade of work is completely useless.” Seokjin says, stepping in to mitigate the anger erupting from Namjoon.

“What am I supposed to say to her? She knows too much already,”

“She doesn’t know what she knows,” Yoongi answers. “Looking through her emails and texts, it’s clear that her family wants the seven of us dead for espionage, and for attempting to bring them down. All _Cupid_ knows is that you found us, which she assumes is a fatal flaw in our plan, though she has yet to understand the plan at all.”

“It’s completely intentional,” Hoseok adds. “ _Cupid_ only knows that we either worked for her company or dated her or a sibling. She knows our fictitious careers and lives but has no clue about who we truly are.”

“Her brother, Dae-Seong, _Codename Archer_ , is the one who wants us gone, eviscerated, eradicated. He’s the one driving this whole thing. _Archer’s_ convinced _Cupid_ that vengeance will solve her romantic woes,” Jimin tells me. 

“But what about Jun-Seo? You left him the night of your engagement party, and Kwan-Min, you went on a few dates… Couldn’t this be about them?”

“ _Codenames Bow_ and _Arrow_ are less of a threat than _Cupid_ and _Archer_ ,” Taehyung answers.

“ _Cupid_ has been kept in the dark for the past, fifteen years, in regard to their business. The dark dealings of her company reside solely with her siblings and their parents. We want them,” Namjoon finishes.

“Why not use Euna, sorry, _Cupid_ , as the patsy?” I ask.

“Who will run their company?” Yoongi asks.

“Someone else?”

“There’s too much evidence, nearly the entire company is dirty,” Jimin tells me.

“So, you’ve been spying on them from the inside?” I question.

“Sort of,”

“It’s Nixon, Watergate extreme?” I ask.

“What does _Cupid_ know, and when did she know it?” Yoongi answers, his annoyance completely dissipating at my Watergate mention.

“Why do you think she’ll believe me? She doesn’t have much faith in me as of late,” I question, the lilt of insecurity in my voice. Jungkook glances at me, eyes soft at the familiar tone, he tries to offer a smile, at least, it looks like he’s trying.

“Yeah, because you fucked Jungkook and she found out. Before that though, she couldn’t sing your praises enough,” Namjoon’s calmed down, his frustration settling like sediment at the bottom of a pot. Adding an eighth person to the group was always going to shift the balance, move the power around and rattle nerves. But me? I’m burning it down. Though I can’t completely be to blame - Jungkook is also at fault.

“Fine. What do I say to her?”

“Haven’t we gone over this before? Lie,” Yoongi says.

“Yoongi, if you’re going to be an ass, can you please direct it at someone else?” I snap.

“Feisty,” He nods approvingly.

_“Black Panther,_ you have notes in your file about what we need from you,” Namjoon instructs.

“You want me to end my relationship with her?” I question.

“Yes,”

“What about –

“Either you end it first, creating an enemy, or she ends it with you which will not be helpful for us,”

“I just,” I look at them, eyes finally glancing to Jungkook. He looks exhausted, and sad, so sad, his irises choppy waves searching for harbor. “Do I have a choice?”

“No,” Namjoon answers, but Jungkook’s eyes tell me exactly what I need to know. I don’t have a choice, and somewhere along the line, he stopped having one too.

“Fine, tell me what to do,” I flip to the page in my file, eyes scanning the words, mind no longer full of Jungkook my boyfriend, but of Jungkook, _Operative_ , member of _OT7_. This is a job, a job that seemingly could make or destroy my career. I don’t have time or the emotional space to navigate his crashing midnight eyes. All I have now is focus, drive, determination, and hints of stubbornness. This is the same drive that in a weird twist of fate, has led me to this very conference room, with these seven mysterious men.

I cannot fuck it up.

I will not get a second chance.


	24. Codename Black Panther Meets Codename Cupid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Black Panther & Codename Cupid meet, Golden Maknae & Black Panther attempt to find a solution. 
> 
> or 
> 
> What happens when you're confronted with an undeniable lie you've been telling for nearly a year?

**Codename Black Panther Meets Codename Cupid**

_Present Day_

It’s awkward, sitting in your office knowing a team of high level, highly intelligent men sit no more than a block away, surveying your every move. Taehyung and Jimin are in their truck, the bugs they’d planted months ago still in use, their sight line into my office unobstructed. So what do you do when you’re under surveillance? No more rapping Childish Gambino at the top of my lungs, no more dancing to ABBA when I’m tired of sitting… No more pretending to work and billing hours when I’m reading conspiracy theory blogs. No more making out with Jungkook when he stops by or whispering filth into his ear when our temperatures are escalating and the need for each other surpasses the need for air.

I have to remind myself what the most important aspect of being under surveillance is: Act like you aren’t.

_Cupid_ enters my office in what I can only describe as a knockout outfit, head to toe Chanel, complete with a Birkin and what I can only assume are Hermes sunglasses. She looks stunning, more so than usual.

“Euna, so good to see you,” I say, gesturing for her to sit. She glances at the chair and shakes her head.

“For how much I pay you, you should be able to afford nicer furniture,” She hums.

“Can I get you a water?” I ask, the anger attempting to pull my smile from my lips.

“Please, Pellegrino?”

“Yes, lemon and regular,” I inform her.

“Lemon please,” She says. _Cupid_ takes her sunglasses off and waits patiently for me to return.

“We have a few updates to discuss,” I tell her. “I have done a little more research on the –

“I came here to tell you that I will no longer be needing your service,” _Cupid_ interrupts.

“I’m sorry, have I done something?” I ask, surprise willingly seeping through my features. “I know we had a tense conversation the last time you stopped by, but I didn’t think you wanted me to stop my work.”

“I have done some digging on my own and have come to the conclusion that it’s incredibly unprofessional of you to engage with Jeon Jungkook in a manner that is far more than casual lovers. He is not who he says he is, and I will not have you investigating your own boyfriend.”

“Euna, how do you know?”

“I have my sources,”

“I thought I was your source,” I counter.

“You are,”

“Then, who else are you working with?” I ask again.

“That is not for you to know,”

“Okay, but you are clearly mad at me, or frustrated with me, specifically regarding my love life, which is not up for discussion. I want to fix whatever is causing this, but I can’t do that if you don’t tell me.” My voice reaches the gravel pit my Speech Therapist told me is unhealthy, ravaging my vocal cords. I can’t tell what her end game is, but I know mine.

“I do not feel comfortable with him being near my family and being with you means he is. I won’t associate with someone so…,” _Cupid_ scolds me, unable to finish her thought. “Further, I believe you have gone above and beyond what I initially requested, and I am satisfied with the work you have done.”

“Why is my relationship with Jungkook so-

“You have love in your eyes,” She says. I gnaw at the dead skin of my bottom lip. “You are no longer leading this investigation with a clear head, and I need someone whose mind isn’t filled with hope to get to the bottom of this. However he knows them, Jeon Jungkook is dangerous.”

“If you tell me, I can ensure he isn’t. We’ve been together for a while, Euna, he isn’t, he isn’t whatever you think he is,” I could easily be lying, in this moment, I have no idea who Jungkook is.

“Be careful, Y/N, you do not know what they’re capable of.”

“Euna,” I start again. How does she know he knows them? What intel does she have that I so clearly do not? “What are they capable of?”

“You don’t want to find out. Here is your last check, bonus included for your exceptional work. I do have one request.” _Cupid_ stands, slipping her shades back over chocolate eyes.

“Okay?” I ask, standing to mirror her.

“Burn it all,”

“Burn it?”

“Whatever documentation you have from my time working with you, it would be in your best interest to burn it,” Euna chooses her words carefully, a trait of being a CEO. I swallow thickly, nodding my head.

“Okay, and Euna?” I ask.

“Hmm?”

“I’m sorry this wasn’t everything you wanted it to be, and that I couldn’t find Yoongi,” I concede.

“Oh, don’t apologize. I would be a terrible businesswoman if _this_ was the end of my plans.” Replacing her frown with a gentle smile, she walks towards the door. “When you see Min Yoongi, tell him I’ll be waiting.”

“What makes you think I’ll be seeing Min Yoongi?”

“Oh Y/N, I have a little faith.”

I watch her leave and decide that banging my head against a wall regarding what _Cupid_ knows and I don’t is worthless. I guarantee Namjoon has another file waiting for me with all the answers to the questions he’s assuming I’m going to ask. He isn’t wrong, I do have a million questions, ones for Jungkook, ones for Namjoon, about nine million for Yoongi, and a few for Jimin. Yoongi was so smug, arrogant, rude, a complete ass hole. I hate him. But I also deeply respect his game. I also completely understand why Jun-Seo fell for Jimin, he is by far the most gorgeous man I have ever seen up close, next to Taehyung. And Jungkook. In person? Holy fuck, Park Jimin can fucking get it.

Speaking of the man in question, who is now a suspect to Euna, is waiting patiently for me when I come home. Jungkook’s not stalking in the darkness, slinking through the night to find me, catching me off guard once I close the front door. He’s silent in his approach, waiting patiently for me. But tonight, either in an effort to smooth things over or out of the pure goodness of his heart, he’s home. He’s got takeout waiting on the table, glasses of water and booze sitting in the appropriate places, necessary silverware set in place. This isn’t fucking Thanksgiving, it’s a goddamned Thursday night. He himself is waiting patiently on the couch, lying down, eyes closed and soft snores coming out of his mouth. He looks cozy in ripped jeans and a sweatshirt, his hair growing long again, bleached, a look I was thoroughly against until I laid eyes on him.

Walking. Sex.

That’s the only way I can describe him.

“Go home,” I purposefully slam the door, jolting him from his slumber.

“I am home,” He responds.

“I can’t do this with you,”

“We need to talk,” he sits up and rubs the sleep from his eyes.

“I don’t want to talk right now, JK, I want to go to sleep,”

“JK?” His eyebrows raise to say hello to his hairline.

“Yes, I don’t want to talk, go home.”

“Cricket, you haven’t eaten dinner yet,” He reminds me.

I can feel the tears prickling again, the ones I’d shed in front of _OT7_ , the ones I’d born in the car, the ones I’d been bottling up for the last thirty-six hours, trying to not be so obviously heartbroken as I stared Lee Euna down. I’m too sad to fight him, so I don’t, letting him stand and guide me to the table where the Thai awaits. Dropping my bag down, I walk through to my bedroom, into the bathroom and shut the door.

“I’m showering first,” I call, ignoring the protest in his eyes as I walked away.

It’s a little too spot on to blast Adele, but I don’t fucking care. I turn it as loudly as my neighbors will tolerate and sing my sorrows. Tears mixing with cleanser, the poetry of their juxtaposition not lost as Adele fades into Ben Platt, and I’m sobbing as I release the words, noticing the magnitude of the change of phrase: 

**_Now my heart is in your hands, please don't give it up / This is not a temporary love / This is not a temporary love / No, this is not a temporary love / Now your heart is in my hands, please don't give it up_ **

I know Jungkook will be waiting for me to finish showering, and I know he’ll be ready to listen. He’ll beat himself up over whatever I say, he’ll listen when my voice raises, when it cracks, when it shakes. He always does. I guess that’s the thing about Jungkook, no matter how inexperienced he feels about loving someone, taking care of them, supporting them, he always does it and does it well. He shows up, even when he feels like he can’t. It’s been over a year, never once have I doubted his dedication, his steadfast love, not when he walked into the meeting with OT7, or when he tried to follow me after, or in the voicemails and texts he’s left since. I’ve never doubted Jungkook.

I shuffle from the warmth of my bathroom towards the kitchen table, where Jungkook is sitting.

“I reheated your plate,” Jungkook says. He’s sitting quietly, eyes full and downcast.

“Thanks,”

“Do you want to eat then talk, or talk first?” He offers the two options, knowing which I’ll pick.

“Eat,” I sit across from him, noting how he placed my food as far from him as possible, a notable decision that not only highlights how deeply he knows me, but that he still fucking cares. “You ate already?”

“I, yeah, I couldn’t wait,” He’s shy, a blush on his cheeks.

“Why? You always wait,”

“I’ve been on a small mission for the last twenty-four hours, no food, and I’ve been so anxious about us that I just… Seeing you just made all that stress disappear, so I ate,” Jungkook tells me. He sniffles, his tears starting to fall.

“A small mission?”

“Mm, to find out what happened to _Bow_ and _Arrow_ in 2012 and 2014 respectively,” He answers.

“Did you find out?”

“Yeah, but, well, you haven’t been onboarded. But one of our rules is that you don’t discuss work outside of headquarters,”

“Right, sure, makes sense,” I nod. I glance at him again, nose red, tears still falling. “I can’t eat if you’re crying.”

“I’ll sit on the couch,” He stands and shuffles towards the grey clothed piece I scrimped and saved for. It’s beyond worn out, pills of fabric piled on the edges of cushions, stains from mishaps and craft projects I should’ve done at the table. It’s housed many naps and a few guests. Jungkook looks nestled amongst the pillows.

I eat my food quietly, trying to figure out what it is exactly that I want to tell him. I’m not entirely sure I know what will come out of my mouth when I have to stare into his Bambi eyes. But I think I know what will come out of his, and I don’t want to hear it.

“I’m sorry,” Jungkook starts. The dishes are cleared, and he’s waiting patiently for me on the couch. I don’t sit down, just stare at the spot above his head.

“How long have you known?” It’s better to just rip the bandage off, right?

“Four months,” Jungkook answers.

“How long have you known Jimin?”

“Eight years. How long have you known about my connection to Jimin and Taehyung?”

“A year,” I whisper. My sin seems far worse than his.

“A year?” Jungkook’s astonished. “You’re mad at me for a few months that were direct orders when you’ve been what, suspicious for a year?”

“You lied to me, fundamentally lied about who you are, I asked you for one fucking thing in this relationship, and you broke it.” I yell.

“Technically, you asked me two things, and I have followed through on both of those.” Why is his voice measured? Why doesn’t he yell when I yell?

“You lied!” My voice rises another octave, “What was your goal, to perpetuate the lie for as long as possible?”

“I had a job-

“I had a job!” I counter.

“My job requires me to do certain things without asking,” Jungkook’s tears continue to fall. “I asked if I could tell you, and I told you what I could.”

“You spied on me, gave all my evidence and –

“I didn’t spy on you,” His teeth are gritted, bunny smile lost to the nasty snare he’s tightened across his lips.

“Your _friends_ spied on me,” I correct myself.

“You spied on my friends!” Jungkook countered.

“Your friends? The men that until two days ago I didn’t know were part of a giant governmental body that’s going to take down the largest conglomerate in the world? Who even are they? Who the fuck do they work for? What the fuck do they even do? I didn’t know you could be a secret organization without like, the federal government or Interpol knowing who you are but to my surprise, you can!”

Jungkook rolls his eyes, it’s aggressive and sharp, seeing his entire brain as they roll. “I had to lie. You, you knew and didn’t say anything. Why not say something?”

I sigh, I can tell him why I didn’t say anything, but I can’t tell him why I didn’t say anything. You know?

“I had no real proof that you really knew them,” I begin, “all I had was a hunch, a reaction they had that made it seem like they knew you. I put a few pieces together, but I didn’t have any real evidence that would hold up in court or against your withering stare. And, what if you were dangerous? OT7 is dangerous, you all could’ve hurt me. Why couldn’t me hiding it be about my safety?”

“You’re grasping at straws. If you had thought I wasn’t safe to be with, you wouldn’t be here a year later.”

“Tell me this, Jungkook, why, in front of all of your best friends, did you fucking let Namjoon tear me to pieces? Why, Jungkook, did you not say anything when you were left off my list of romantic partners? Do they not know about us? Do they not know you, we, love each other? Is this not what I thought it was?” Ah, and there the tears are.

“I wanted to be off the list,” He whispers.

“Why Jungkook? From where I’m standing, it fucking feels like you’re trying your hardest to erase me, like, like this almost year and a half that we’ve been together means nothing because I’m just a god damn _mark_. Is that what I am? Have I been reduced to that?”

“No!” He stands and shakes his head repeatedly.

“Then who am I to you? Am I your girlfriend? Am I your best friend? Or am I a piece in a larger puzzle that you are trying to solve?” I demand, pausing minutely to gasp for air. “I know what you are to me, I know how I feel about you. All my feelings have done in the last year is grow. I love you more than I did last week, I care about you more deeply than I did when you told me about how you were raised, a slight lie, but still honest. I see us, our life together more clearly than I ever have, but two days ago I.” I let the tears fall, pulling my mascara, never waterproof, and eyeshadow down with them. “I looked like the fool. I was the little girl attempting to play dress up with the fucking Tony Award winning cast of _Catch Me if You Can_. So, if I’m not the butt of the joke to you, who the fuck am I Jungkook?”

He wipes his eyes on his sleeves, which have covered his hands and are balled beneath his fingers. I’ve never seen him this upset. I know I’m not prepared for what is going to come out of his mouth.

“Namjoon tells people that we’re the one who knocks, but we aren’t. We’re the ones who send in the team to knock, we call all the shots, gather all the data, work the case until it is made out of marble. There are no cracks unless we have intentionally left them. We work as a unit, I don’t breathe without Hoseok knowing. I don’t brush my hair without Jimin catching it. We exist because of each other.” He sighs, “I took myself off the list on purpose. Your existence in my life is a threat. People know who I am, and if they know you…”

He shakes his head, a flash of what I experienced a few weeks ago, the idea of not coming home to this, to us… It’s in his eyes and it’s breaking my heart. 

“I know we can keep you safe. I have full faith that our team will always protect you, but if I’m on that list, if there’s a trail of me to you, or vice versa. We’re at risk. I cannot, and I will not, lose you. I will not let my work put your life at risk, I will not sacrifice myself if it means I won’t come home to you. At the end of the day, isn’t that our promise to each other? I love you, and I am so sorry I lied to you, but my hands were tied. I can’t step out of line without risking everything _OT7_ is and does. I won’t do it.”

“I’m not asking you to be a coward,” I whisper.

“What?” Jungkook asks, for the first time in a few days, his eyes are softening, confusion replacing hurt. 

"In _Charmed_ , Phoebe asks Cole to back down, and he responds by saying he would do anything for her, except be a coward. He begs, _please don’t ask me to be_. I’m not asking you to be a coward, Jungkook.”

“I know you’re not. I asked Namjoon if I could tell you, about my job,”

“I remember,”

“I didn’t give specifics about who you are. I didn’t tell OT7 because I didn’t want you to be used in this case, I didn’t want this to be happening. But I walked into the offices and there you were, your photo, your stats, your codename,” A shiver runs over my spine at the mention of a codename, something so intentional, deliberate, precise. They’d taken the time to include me. “I didn’t know that Jimin and Taehyung had been following you for months or had interacted with you. They asked me point blank and I couldn’t lie. I wouldn’t lie about you, you’re too important. Namjoon gave me orders, and I’m obligated to follow them.”

“You lied to me,” I repeat.

“You lied to me, too.”

I stare at him, I don’t know how to fix this.

“We don’t have to forgive each other, or understand one another or work through it, now or ever. But I think that would be a disservice, a betrayal, of our relationship. You did ask me who you are to me, and the best way to explain it is this,” He grabs a paper off the coffee table and hands it to me, “Namjoon had me write it down.”

Cautiously I take the paper from him, typed and unedited, it’s longer than I expected. “Is this a twisted love letter?”

“You could say that,” Jungkook’s soft smile returns.

“Read it to me,” I hand it back.

Sniffling, “I’ll keep crying,”

“Please?” I ask again, sitting on the couch. He nods gently and sits next to me.

“Can I hold your hand?” He asks. The flames have been handled, dulled to hot embers as we sit, thigh touching thigh, his tattooed covered hand engulfing mine.

“ _Y/N and I began dating after meeting in a bar. I was struck by how stunning she was, how much I wanted to understand the flush of her cheeks, the curve of her jaw, the cadence of her laugh. We flirted, and I bought her drink. That first night in her apartment, where I now spend almost all of my time, I was overwhelmed by how much it felt like home… which is insane and I’ve never told her, but that night, I could just see us there, our future, all enfolding in front of me... Her apartment doesn’t turn you away or disinvite you once you’ve arrived, it’s far too warm and cozy, just like her. It’s my favorite place in the world, she’s my favorite place._

_We spent the night laughing, kissing, getting to know each other. It was something in her eyes, in the way she absentmindedly traced my tattoos, how she fell asleep so easily in my arms. The next morning, we got breakfast, and I asked her out for a date on Monday. Dinner and a movie, classic. She let me hold her hand, and skillfully argued why she should pay for dinner. I compromised, she bought the movie tickets and treats. I barely paid attention to the movie, I just wanted to watch her laugh. Since that night, she’s all I ever think about._

_She said she wanted to know what she was going to drown in before she dove in, and I knew in that moment that I loved her. I’ve never heard such poetry spoken, let alone about me, to me, before… She just, she was vulnerable without hesitation. I didn’t understand how she could be so delicate with me, so exposed, so willing to let me in. Her vulnerability welcomed mine, embraced it, and I’ve been loving her ever since._

_I’ve never loved someone quite like her. She is brash, she makes decisions and sticks with them regardless of how difficult they make her life. She works side projects for neighbors, unpaid, to ease their lives. The man she rents her office from has a few kids, and in the summers, she takes a day a week to watch them. She hates cooking and brushes her teeth for over the recommended time because she’s terrified they’ll rot. She buys packs of the same popsicles and never leaves without a full water bottle. She hates sports, would rather sit in silence and stare at a wall than watch a football game, but she’ll check up on the highlights if it matters to me. She listens to the same music on a loop and adds in songs I love to her playlists because she wants to feel close to me, to understand me, to see me._

_I could continue listing all the things about her, that I love, or all the things I love about our relationship… how we compromise, how we talk through our squabbles, how we respect each other, how we can communicate without speaking but know each other’s voice is our favorite sound. I love that she’s perceptive and asks for alone time when she needs to recharge and can sense from the tone in my voice when I need the same. I love how she sees me, listens to me, brings out the parts of me only OT7 knows. Like I said, I could keep writing… but it’s easier to put it this way:_

_Y/N is the love of my life, and I will do anything to protect her, to love her, to come home to her every day and every night that she’ll have me._

_I will not break my promise to her. Lock and key._ ”

Jungkook sets the paper down and doesn’t look at me. I’m openly balling next to him, sobs ripping through me in quick succession.

No one has ever loved me like this.

I’ve only dreamed of love like this, I mean, no one has this, right? He’s offering it to me, no strings attached, no secrets, love for the sake of love. Love without penance or an additional cost to it. Here he is, all ink and doe eyes, holding me, the woman who lied to him, deceived him, was suspicious of him for months, hoping he still holds that love for me.

“You’re just, you’re the love of my life,” I wail, hands still covering my face as snot gloms onto my palms.

“Cricket,” Jungkook wraps his arms around me as his tears fall onto my body. “I love you.”

“I’m sorry I lied, I’m sorry I kept it from you. I just, I didn’t know and I,”

“Shh, Cricket, it’s okay,”

“Bunny,” I say, “I’m sorry. I forgive you. You don’t have to forgive me.”

“I forgive you,” He tells me.

“You do?”

“Yes. I’ve watched every member of OT7 lose their relationships, be beaten up over a fake relationship with a mark, giving themselves to someone to have it crumble under direct orders. Jimin is still trying to unravel the _Arrow_ if it all. I didn’t, I didn’t want work to ruin us.”

“You wouldn’t let it,” I assure him.

“I wouldn’t, but there’s always the threat,”

“Are you secretly more cunning than I give you credit for?”

“Absolutely,” He smirks.

“I missed you,” I whisper. Can he hear my heartache? We’ve never gone 36 hours apart… not since our first month or two dating. It’s horrible, I hate it.

“It hasn’t been two days,” His chuckle is light, a sniffle accompanying the sound.

“I know, I missed you though,” I nuzzle deeper into his side, my nose brushing his neck.

“I missed you too,”

“I don’t want to ever fight like that again,” I tell him.

“I can’t guarantee that we won’t,” He reaches his free arm around his torso, knitting his hands together, solidifying my body to him.

“Can you promise me something?” I ask.

“Yes,”

“I promise not to quote _Runaway Bride_ in its entirety,” I start. “But I will still quote it,” I sit up, eyes swollen and red, finding focus on his marble cut features. “Promise me that when things get tough, when one or the both of us wants out, we’ll remember that we made it through this, and we can make it through anything.”

“Do you know in your heart that I’m the one for you?” He asks.

I hate that he leans into my vulnerability, that I’m unable to hide myself from him. I’ve never been able to, not the first night, and not now.

“I will regret it, every day of my life, if I don’t make you mine,” I recite.

“Promise me something,” Jungkook starts.

“The moon and the stars,” I tell him.

“That you won’t lie to me,” He says.

“I promise,” I stick my pinky out.

“You’ll come home to me, always,” He loops his with mine.

“I promise,” I kiss my right hand, he mimics the gesture. “Do you think, maybe we should –

“Move in?” He finishes. His gaze holds mine, all hope, no expectations.

“Yeah,” I nod.

“Yes, here?” It’s hard to imagine he was just crying, the excitement sweeping over his entire body as he stands up and shakes his fists.

“Is your lease up?” I laugh, he’s beyond cute.

“Fuck the lease,” He laughs coming back to the couch. His hands cup my cheeks, fingers gently pressing on my neck, thumb softly caressing my cheeks.

“Bunny?” I whisper, eyes flicking to his lips.

“Cricket,” He answers.

“Lock and key,”

“Lock and key,”

“You and me,”

“You and me,” He leans forward, lips finally meeting. The anticipation of having him in my arms, the ache of his absence over the last day and a half, the unsteady calm of opening your heart to someone… it’s all there in how his lips move against mine, how his tongue gently passes my lips, how his hands move down my body. The opposite of hope is fear, the opposite of pain is joy, as we move together, bodies joining, sweat mixing and names said in pure ecstasy, Jungkook and I solidify what we’ve always known about each other and our relationship.

Lock and key, him and me.


	25. OT8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Black Panther is onboard and Cricket & Bunny make an important decision regarding the trajectory of their relationship.

**OT8**

_**Present Day** _

The sunlight streaks through my window, blurring my vision with its shine. I’m fairly exhausted, and sore, and dare I say, happy? I’m pulled away from my restorative slumber as my phone rings, _Earth, Wind & Fire_ blaring. I’ve had the same ringtone since I was 19, and I’m never going to change it.

“Fuck,” I whisper, taking it from the charger and rolling my eyes at the caller ID. “Hello?”

“Hey, did you get kidnapped?” C asks.

“Um, sort of? Why?” I slip out of the bedroom, tossing my robe over my barely clothed body and sit on the couch.

“It came across my desk and I was wondering if there was something you needed to tell me,” C informs me.

“Oh?”

“Is there?” She pushes.

“No, everything is fine,”

“Okay, are you sure?”

“Are you tapping my phone?” I ask.

“No,”

“Do you know someone who is?”

“Depends, do you?” Her words are delicate, leading without being forthcoming.

“Perhaps,” My voice pitches up at the last syllable, a hold over, a question that I refuse to ask.

“Hmm,” That’s her tell.

“You knew, this whole time?” I accuse.

“Well, sort of. I was clued in a bit ago,” She tells me.

“Did everyone know about this before me?”

“What have they told you?” She’s trying to toe the line.

“A little, I go back in today,” She probably knows this already.

“Keep Jungkook close, he’ll be helpful,” C advices.

“How did you –

“Your onboarding will you go smoothly if you don’t fight RM and Suga,” 

“Seriously?” I snap.

“Seriously, trust me,” Her older sibling reeks, doling out advice I didn’t ask for. 

“Fine,” I huff, how is it that everyone knows about this organization besides me?

“Love you,” She says.

“Mean it,” I respond before I hang up.

I look towards my bedroom, where Jungkook lays, and am beyond upset. How is it possible that everyone knew about _OT7_ , that I was being followed, except me? My own sister? Jungkook is one thing, he works for them, but her? Why didn’t she say anything sooner? That’s truly what’s making me so upset and frustrated, that I was working 14-16 hour days, beating myself up for not finding _Cupid_ answers sooner, and my fucking sister was sitting on all the information I needed. What’s worse? She didn’t let on that she knew. She didn’t drop a hint, a breadcrumb, a wink or knowing glance. All she wanted to ask about was Jungkook, in a year, all she ever asked… Fuck sisters.

“Cricks, do you want coffee?” Jungkook stands in the door frame to the bedroom, chest bare, ink spread across his arm and up his right peck. His hand tattoos, and the one on his upper shoulder, are my absolutely favorite. They’re sentimental, meaningful, powerful. Black with minimal color, they’re staggering against his honeyed skin. While his model status is never lost on me, it’s his thoughtfulness that gets me every time.

“Yes please,” I reply.

“You thinking about last night?” He moves with ease towards the small kitchen, pulling my favorite mugs from the cabinet.

“Which part?” I ask.

“Any part,” He shrugs, his muscles moving up and down seamlessly.

“Yeah, a little,” I tell him.

“What’s on your mind?” He turns, arms crossing, I swear he tries to look tough, but he just looks like a pissed off Thumper.

“My sister knows,”

“Knows?”

“About you, about _OT7_ ,” I clarify.

“How?”

“No fucking clue, she said not to piss off Namjoon and Yoongi, though.”

Jungkook snorts before nodding his head, “Watch out for Jimin and well, you saw Seokjin. He bottles it up and then explodes. Jimin’s just a hot head. Namjoon, is ruthless, but no one is as ruthless as Yoongi-hyung.”

“That leaves you and Tae? And Hoseok, I don’t know much about Hoseok,”

“You’ll really like him, you’ll like all of them. They aren’t as rough around the edges as they seem,” He pours the coffee into our mugs, reaching into the kitchen to grab the oat milk to pour into mine.

“Did you put caramel in it?” I question, sniffing the liquid.

“Mm, three pumps right?”

“Yeah, what, a 1/5 of what it took you last night?” I wink. Jungkook hates when I’m blatantly sexual, murmuring a simple ‘stop’ as his cheeks become a deep crimson.

“That’s really what you think of me?” He questions, moving to stand in front of me. I spread my legs to let him stand between, and he leans down, hands on my thighs. “After last night?”

“You know that’s not what I think, Bunny,” I reply. “You know how highly I think of you and your sexual prowess.”

“Then don’t fucking tease me about it,” Jungkook leans down to place a kiss on my cheek.

“Can I ask one work question?”

“Yes,” He grabs his cup and sits on the stool next to me.

“What happened between Taehyung and _Cupid_? She says it was a difference in opinion, a misunderstanding that led to an abortion? That’s not Taehyung though, and _OT7_ wouldn’t make her abort anything, would they?” I sip my coffee. Fuck me if he doesn’t make it better than I do.

“She wasn’t pregnant,” Jungkook answers.

“She wasn’t? Why did she lie?”

“She’s full of lies, Cricket,”

“Okay, then what actually happened?”

“She took advantage of him,” Jungkook’s eyes stare into his coffee, the blackness reflected in his irises.

I nearly choke on my coffee. “Of Tae?”

“Mm, of Tae, more than once,”

“Did you-

“We didn’t know, I didn’t know until I was onboarded fully. Tae went to Joon-hyung, and then it was handled.”

“Oh my god,” I whisper. “Oh my god.”

“Mm,” Jungkook’s signature sound is muttered, a delicate whisper against my raging anxiety. 

“She raped him?” I question.

“Yes,” He refuses to look at me, but the clench of his jaw is unmistakable.

“But... wow,” Is all I can say.

“Wow?”

“I just, if I had known, I wouldn’t have worked with her,”

“You didn’t know,” Jungkook’s hand engulfs mine in that familiar embrace.

“Is Tae alright?”

“Yes, he went to a lot of therapy and was pulled from field work,”

“The mission was terminated, fuck that’s a loaded word, but he didn’t have to –

“No, the second Namjoon knew, he ended it. That’s one of our rules, no one engages in behavior they are not comfortable with,” He informs me, another piece of information I’m sure Namjoon will be telling me during _onboarding_. God, days spent listening to Namjoon go over rules? I’d rather suffer through another one of _Cupid’s_ family dinners than sit through him. Is he like, fun? Now’s not the time to ask… but fuck me if I’m not curious.

“She, _Cupid_ , she said he made her abort the baby, which didn’t match up with the Taehyung I was seeing or with any evidence but then again she never gave me any records to check it with and I wasn’t allowed to look into her health record at all,” I ramble.

“That tracks. There’s a lot you’ll find out about _Cupid_ , and her family… there’s a lot you don’t know, Cricket. But, for right now, you need to know that there was no baby, she was never pregnant, just wanted to trick Taehyung into sticking around. It began with Yoongi, and just escalated.”

We sip our coffee in silence. The tension is dissipating, but I’m still nervous and scared. I consorted with a known rapist, worked months with her, took her money. What will Taehyung think of me now? Do I apologize? I should apologize, when I see him. Though, that’s not the responsibility of the victim to accept an apology. I didn’t know. Like I told Yoongi, I’m not Nixon, this isn’t Watergate. No one will ask what I know and when I knew it, no one will back date and check my sources to confirm. But I will always know that I engaged with her after she committed various offenses against someone I know I will care deeply for, someone who cares deeply for the one I love.

I know it’s not in my place to feel guilty, or maybe it is. Isn’t part of being an ally sitting in your own privilege, your own ability to feel grateful that it wasn’t you, and recognizing you have leaps and bounds in order to support those who have gone through whatever it is? I’m an ally to Jungkook, though I’m not Korean or first generation, and he’s an ally to me, though he isn’t biracial or a descendant of slaves. We both work towards the same cause though. Doesn’t sexual assault, rape, harassment, fall under the same umbrella?

“Cricket?” Jungkook’s hand has moved to rub circles on my back.

“Bunny?” I glance at him, bottom lip between my teeth again, though I’ve already gnawed off every dead skin cell.

“Hm?”

I always smile when he makes that sweet sound, or its derivative, _mm_.

“Do you still want to move in, or was last night an over correction for the fight?” I question.

“You’re really doubting me today, aren’t you?” His brows slope against his eyes, his ministrations against my back freeze. Those furrowed little lines on the flesh where the slope of his nose meets his forehead mark his deep concentration.

“I’m not doubting you. I just want to make sure. You know, we’re in our twenties. We are prone to fall for the cohabitation effect.”

“The what?”

“Couples who move in together as a reaction to fear their relationship will dissolve, often move in to preserve something. Then when they realize they aren’t compatible or don’t want to continue being together, they don’t break up because they live together,” I inform him.

“Is this one of your theories?”

“No, it’s Dr. Meg Jay, _The Defining Decade_. I have two copies, you should read it,”

“Okay, put it on my bedside table and I will,”

“Oh, so you’re, in?” I smile.

“Oh, I’m in, completely,” Jungkook kisses me soundly, hand creeping under my shirt to caress the bare skin.

“We have to get ready,” I tell him, tilting my head to grant him access to my neck, which has thoroughly missed his touch in the last eight hours.

“Fuck it,” He murmurs, the vibration of his tenor voice echoing through my skin.

“Bunny, they’re going to be so mad, and I know Namjoon already hates me,” My hands gently ghost down his chest, drawing shapes against his abs before resting on the hem of his boxer briefs. He’s so tempting, all skin and muscle, sweeping bleached locks and soulful eyes. I was right for driving into them.

“He doesn’t hate you,”

“Yoongi at least-

“They don’t hate you, we’re just a unit and you bring new energy to the entire group, that’s all it is.” He confirms.

Pulling the inner flesh of my lip between my teeth, I exhale. “What if they hate me?”

“They won’t,”

“Jungkook,”

“Y/N”

“Will that change your opinion of me?” I ask.

“Oh honey, of course not,” He assures. I don’t know what it is, blind faith and trust I guess, but I always believe him on the first go.

“Okay, do you want to shower before we go?”

“Together?” He asks. His hands are still under my shirt, gently palming my latte skin until it burns with desire. I hate how good he is, how seductive, sensual, misleading his bunny smile and endearing eyes are. I want him always.

“Why else would I’ve skipped the underwear?” I move his hand under the hem of my night shirt. He growls ever so softly at the feeling of my bare ass in is hand. “And to think, you thought I was kidding about your work last night! Sore or night, I think we’ve got enough time for me to prove you wrong.”

~~~~~

“Here’s my question,” I start, directing OT7’s focus to me. It’s been three hours of listening to Namjoon go over protocols and procedures. I haven’t smiled once, well, Jungkook did walk by and wink at me, which I’ll admit, made me blush. This is my second time in the large conference room, and together we’re discussing the case, my knowledge of the Lee’s, and where we stand now. It feels like a scene out of Be More Chill, but instead of data dumping everything I’ve learned, they’re painstakingly pulling it from me. Yoongi’s got my hard drives, all my notes, he’s cracked every password and firewall defense I set up. Of course he is, he’s Min Yoongi.

“Yoongi, how the fuck did you become so off the grid? I couldn’t find you, period.”

“That’s part of my job, _Black Panther_ ,” He smirks.

“Your work on _Enterprises_ was under Park Yoongi, and you left no visible trace on the company. You don’t show up in alum magazines or columns, no birth certificate, anything of public record is _gone_. What the fuck did you do?”

“That’s for me to know,” Yoongi winks at me.

“And Namjoon, what the fuck happened when you turned 16?”

“What do you mean?” He asks, puzzled by the question.

“You are everywhere, every magazine, every scholarly article, on every universities formal lecture docket, and then poof. Like you didn’t exist,” I stare at him, he’s far less of a dick than I previously thought. We have some similarities too, actually, OT7 and I are far more alike than I realized.

“I did exist, I was just busy training,” He shrugs.

“You started training at 16?”

“A little before that, has JK not told you?”

“He’s hardly told me anything,”

“Even after you found out?” Jimin asks.

“Even then, what was it you said?”

“They’re not my stories to tell,” Jungkook shrugs. He’s across the table, in his designated spot next to Taehyung and I desperately wish I could hold his hand. Who. Have. I. Become?

“Mm,” Namjoon nods, “I was brought on from an early age, trained and then helped shape this group into what it is today.”

“Namjoon’s the reason we exist,” Hoseok says.

“He helped select all of us, leads us, makes the decisions,” Jungkook says.

“So your stunted upbringings trace back to him?” I ask.

“They trace back to the people above him, Black Panther,” Yoongi corrects.

“Right, the mythical beings above Namjoon. Do they exist? Have you seen them?”

“They exist, and they’re a little terrifying,” Seokjin adds.

“So Namjoon isn’t the end all be all? He’s not even the oldest!”

“True, he does have to listen to Seokjin,” Jimin laughs. “Sometimes, when hyung is mad, he just launches at Joonie, it’s so funny.”

“You have to listen to him too,” Yoongi’s glare cuts through him.

“So do you, Yoongi-hyung,” Jimin doesn’t back down.

“Anyway, Namjoon-hyung had to go through everything first, that’s why he disappeared from the worlds stage.” Seokjin finishes the tale, bringing us back together.

“Yoongi joined shortly after,” Namjoon continues, “The rest fell into place, well, except _Golden Maknae_ ,”

“Jungkook?” I turn to face my boyfriend, his nose is scrunched, and his hand is behind his head, scratching his neck.

“He nearly left, luckily, Joonie always knows what to say,” Taehyung says. “I was what, technically last?”

“Technically, yes,”

“Which is why we were in training together,” Jungkook reminds him.

“So you’re one big happy family?” I ask.

“We fight, but it’s been a decade, we know each other too well,” Yoongi speaks. “which is why when Jungkookie fell in love, we were caught off guard.”

“Mm,” I nod, mimicking his gesture. “Though you left him off my romantic partners,”

“Well, that was his request,” Namjoon says.

“We’ve all experienced heartbreak and fallen out of love. We all hoped that JK wouldn’t be stunted because of our work,” Seokjin explains.

“Can we not?” Jungkook asks his hyungs. They all turn to him, sensing his discomfort, and laugh.

“Fine, fine. Back to work,” Namjoon advises.

“What exactly is the next phase of the plan?” I wonder. “I mean, Cupid doesn’t want to work with me anymore, so what’s next?”

“Good you asked, _Black Panther_ ,” Namjoon changes the slide and passes me another file. “The next phase requires little work from you, aside from ensuring we have all your evidence. The case moves up the line to the Feds and the other countries who are indicting them.”

“Who all is getting indicted?” I ask.

“Hopefully the entire board, the entire _Codename_ _Valentine_ family, minus _Cupid_ ,”

“What will be left for her?”

“Depends on what they take,” Yoongi sips his coffee. He’s much easier to read in person, his features, however angelic, are deeply expressive.

“What about their investors?”

Seokjin doesn’t hesitate to respond, “Their money will be frozen for a while, then returned to them.”

“Do you find it deeply romantic that you’re citing their financial downfall when that’s how you met Cupid?” I ask him.

“I prefer a slight twist of fate,” Seokjin nods, the bob of his head accompanying the pout. “When will this go down?”

“The Feds and a few other groups move in on _Lee Enterprises_ early next week,” Jungkook answers. I remain confused as to what he exactly does within this group, it seems like a little of everything but what is everything?

“So, that’s it? I did my part?”

“Yes, you did, exceptionally well,” Namjoon answers.

“You kept her snooping for over a year, all of which we used to nab the rest of her family,” Yoongi starts, “Sure, you were an unexpected parasite for a minute, but you’ve done good work.”

“First of all, rude, secondly, what will you do now?” I glance at each of their expressions, they’ve mastered the slightly inquisitive yet passively uninterested poker face. It’s impressive, their collective shift in attitude, the quiet “hmm” Yoongi hums, the eyes widening on Jimin, the unmistakable panic within Hoseok, all gone within seconds, like a musician losing an award in real time.

“What do you mean?” Hoseok asks.

“When this is over, what will you do? You’ve worked on this for nearly a decade? Who will OT7 be after this?”

“Wow, ask the horrifying existential questions,” Jimin attempts a chuckle, but it comes out as a strained cough.

“We’ll move onto our next mission,” Namjoon responds confidently.

“Which is?”

“You will not know unless we need your services,” He snips.

“Okay but why onboard me? Doesn’t that already make me like an honorary member? No longer _OT7_ but _OT8_?”

“No,” The unison chorus of voices that radiates off the glass is chilling. Accompanying the harsh put down, a chorus of laughs.

“Cult vibes,” I mutter.

“We’ll be fine, _Black Panther_. The question remains, what will you do?” Namjoon asks.

I don’t have an answer, I don’t have a response, all I have is the panicked look on my face. They know I haven’t got a fucking clue what my next career move is. Will I become a member of their team, or a part of the larger organization? Will I go back to aiding depraved housewives in their mission to defame their cheating husbands? I have enough money to hold me over for a month or two, but I guess the question isn’t whether or not I will go back to cheating husbands and slutty mistresses, but do I want to?

I don’t know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (one more chapter ... I think ... might place 'candy hearts' in between chapters with more details... lmk what you think)


	26. To Have Loved & Lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our Lovely P.I. reminisces on the end of her mission, and the fate of the Lee’s.

**To Have Loved and Lost**

**_Present Day_ **

I’m not going to lie and say I didn’t watch the trial of _Lee Enterprises_ , the plea deals through sentencing.

I’m not going to lie and tell you I wasn’t at the courthouse, listening to testimony, jotting down notes to add to my files.

I’m not going to say that I haven’t spoken to Lee Euna since her family and the majority of their coworkers were sentenced, escorted off to prisons where they were certainly going to be targets. You don’t embezzle, trade and engage in fraudulent activity without being a target to the very people you stole from. Though their clientele skews towards the upper echelon of society, the everyday person knows that anyone who deals with the upper 0.01% is scum.

But I did watch.

And I have spoken to Euna, regularly actually.

She’s been kind to me, connected me with a few other higher up clients that have utilized my services for more than cheating husbands. It’s been really nice to have steady work from clients who pay bank. It’s also been nice to speak to Euna in a non-worker-employer environment. Euna doesn’t have many friends, at all, Genevieve Yang turned out to be a plant from _OT7_ , and anyone she had worked with or gone to happy hour with was either in jail, on probation, or on house arrest.

Together, the entire board, Mr. Lee and Dae-Seong were sentenced to 50 years in prison, each. They were ordered to pay nearly 2 billion in restitution, fines across the globe totaling 100 million, and should they be let out early, probation for the entirety of their lives.

Jun-Seo and Kwan-Min, though accomplices in their father’s bidding, faired far better due to testimony and expert opinions on their mental states. Dae-Seong had been subjected to the same scrutiny, but being the sociopath that he is, did not fair too well under the gaze of multiple experts. Kwan and Seo were sentenced to 10 years, a fine of 50 million each, and upon turning into witnesses, 5 years’ probation and a combined 75 million in restitution.

Rest assured, the three free Lee’s still sit on an Everest size amount of money. They won’t be singing for their suppers or scraping by paycheck to paycheck.

Euna had been caught unawares, scared out of her mind when the raid had begun, video cameras and film crews stalking the office as various federal agents descended upon her office. She watched, _horrified_ , as everyone was hauled off. She called me immediately, asking what I knew, and as the only person she knew not arrested, I was tasked with running to her side.

I did stay with her.

I was in the court room for her.

I was with her during witness prep, when she cried over the lies her parents had told her, when the lawyer told her what her finances and career would be like.

She was heartbroken, bewildered that her entire life had been a lie. They all knew, they were all taking part in it, and they had prepped Euna to be the lone wolf, the soul proprietor of the family name and their legacy.

Let’s be clear, I felt deeply uncomfortable the first few weeks, but what was I supposed to do? I too had been a pawn, but, _but_ , she had no one. Literally, no one except for her lawyers and me, the P.I. she paid to find the men who ruined her life and subsequently aided in her demise. She doesn’t know that though, that I was part of it. Euna does know that Jungkook is friends with Taehyung, and I did abandon the friendship on the truth that she raped Tae. She argued at first, that our friendship was stronger than that… but the irrefutable knowledge of her sexual abuse was too much, it was the nail in the coffin of our friendship, as it should’ve been all along.

In a shocking turn of events, Yoongi is my best friend. I’m obsessed with him, truthly and deeply in love. He is easily the most pragmatic, off putting, cuddly monster I have ever come in contact with. I spend whatever time I’m not with Jungkook and the rest of _OT7_ , with Yoongi. It helps that Jungkook idolizes him, not as much as Namjoon or Seokjin, but pretty close. I just, I hate that I love his friends so much, and that I’m so jealous of his connection with them. They believe in one another, are rarely tired of each other even after a decades long mission. OT7 is, as cliché and disgusting as it is, a family. Jungkook was right, he can’t breathe or move without any one of them knowing.

Also? They’re ridiculously funny, thoughtful and compassionate. I truly hate them, and so desperately want to be a part of their club. If this is true friendship, well, maybe I would’ve held on to some of my acquaintances longer.

The other bit of news, I guess, is that I retired the old P.I. hat. I’m getting too old for this shit, and also, Euna had begun sending shitty threatening letters and packages to my office. While I was devastated to abandon my corner office, my safety took precedence and Jungkook nearly lost his shit when he saw the “gifts”. Amongst this outrage over my safety, I have fully been onboarded with OT7, well, adjacent. The company that oversees them, Big Hit, a horrible name, has put me to work. I don’t work with Jungkook, but am in constant communication with Namjoon, Yoongi and Hoseok. Thankfully, I don’t have to work with Seokjin, finances aren’t really a part of my gig. Jimin and Taehyung have come in handy, and I might be obsessed with Taehyung, too. I was right, tailing him was terribly terrific, and being in his orbit is equally as thrilling.

My first case with Big Hit was working a heist job, replicated documents, tracking who had been in and out of the museum, matching facial recognition across Instagram, Facebook, Twitter, and federal databases as well as creating a comprehensive program to track comparisons.

I couldn’t tell you what my sister does, but when I described a few aspects of my new job, she said “Seems familiar.” C remains, as ever, a mystery.

Jungkook and I have been in therapy for a while. It’s amazing what you can unlock when you pay a professional to help you heal yourself. I’m, obsessed with therapy? Not even a question, I love therapy. I went regularly as an adolescent but stopped when I was about 22. I go separately, and every other week, Jungkook and I go together. He goes on his own, something everyone in _OT7_ encouraged. We live together, blissfully, and moved to a bigger apartment where we promptly got a dog named Gureum, a name Jungkook picked out.

I love him, so much more than I did when we started dating. So much more than when he told me he loves me, or when we moved in together, or when I met his family or when Namjoon told me that all Jungkook wants is a life with me. Which, one, was none of his business, and two, didn’t freak me out as much as I thought it would. Probably the therapy, or the acceptance that a life with him is all I want, too.

When Lee Euna came into my office, all Versace and dripping, oozing, pooling wealth, I didn’t know this is where my life would lead me. I didn’t know I would end up working for a major organization, steeped in secrecy, that I would find the love of my life, or friends that make every moment a little bit brighter. I didn’t know that sitting in that little office, sun streaking through stained glass, bourbon cheesecake waiting in my mini fridge, that the click-clack of Louboutin’s would alter the trajectory of my life forever.

But that’s the thing with secret missions, or shady surveillance under the cover of night and letters placed on your car seat, you never know what you’re going to find. Now, nearly three years later, all I have left to say to _Codename Cupid_ is this:

**Mission Accomplished.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (thank you for reading! I'm thinking of putting out a few more chapters... lil drabbles that go between chapters ... lmk if that's something you're into)

**Author's Note:**

> (hope you like it)  
> (Find me on tumblr and Instagram where you can leave notes and engage with me: justasparkwritings)   
> (Of course you’re can continue to leave kudos and comments here too)


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